Escape Artist

I was speaking with my friend John a couple days ago. He said that more than almost anything, he hates when people choose to do something as a form of escapism. "Whether it be drinking, gambling, drugs," he said. "I think to avoid the reality of our daily lives is one of the worst things you can do."

I agreed. How sad to feel you have to get away from your own reality. To numb, to forget, to seek out a false and temporary thrill from something insubstantial and fleeting. How very unstable a person must be to wish to shirk the responsibility of life!

But I immediately realised I am no better. I read! I obsessively devour books of all kinds: fantasy, novels, memoirs, science fiction, mysteries. I turn page after page for the sole purpose of reveling in the lives of these characters, their problems, their friends, their adventures. I feel what they feel, I learn from their mistakes, I drift away to the world in which they live. I am a true Escape Artist, maybe the worst kind.

I can't hide away in these private worlds forever. While I love to escape to these worlds far away, maybe it would be a healthy change to let some of it out. I have decided I will write as I read and share my thoughts as I think them, and I invite my fellow Escape Artists (I know you are out there) to follow along. I want to open a portal and combine the two worlds: the world of reality, and the world I escape to. Will I still be escaping? Of course. But maybe I can begin to face the world of reality with more gumption, more courage, and as whole-heartedly as I face the places to which I escape.

re.