Escapism

     I am an escapist. My mind is not bound by the limits of the physical world. It is beyond that. So far, in fact that it's nearly impossible to find my way back. So far, that by the time I've made the journey it's already about time for me to be headed home, headed back to my escapist reality. Because for me there are visiting hours on this world. They are sporadic and difficult to follow so I rarely take the time to learn the new hours each day. There was one person i used to make the trip for but she's long gone doing God-knows-what on this prison you call earth. She's forgotten me but I haven't forgotten her so I escape to my escapist reality where she never existed to begin with. My dad's abusive, my mom's third child is named Booze and I come from a broken home. It's more than I'm willing to handle so I escape to my escapist reality where sometimes life at home is perfect and sometimes I don't have a home at all.

     I am an escapist. My mind is not bound by the limits of the physical world because my escapist reality lives in music and is created by speakers and instruments. In my guitar my escapist reality is angry. In my bass it is happy. In my sax my reality is laid back. In my piano it is everything. My piano is where my escapist reality was born and where it nested until it could take flight. In my piano my escapist reality is every emotion that the human mind can conceive. Notes form the heart that keeps the blood of music flowing through the veins of my escapist reality. 

     I am an escapist. My mind is not bound by the limits of the physical world because my escapist reality lives in a console and is created by a controller. Life on earth is a war and everyone is fighting a losing battle. In my escapist reality Call of Duty lets me win. And you may be winning right now but that'll change. Wait until I pull out my AK, wait until I escape to my escapist reality because I'll be untouchable. I escape to Minecraft when I can't take the battles. It's where I get some R&R. I build my own world I create my own reality. I build it from stone and wood and protect myself from the monsters that come out at night, from the people from this hell you call the earth. After I escape to my escapist reality I feel like Mario after a star. I feel like Kratos, like I could take down the gods with a swing of my fist. Like Link rescuing Zelda from Ganon, where Zelda is me, Ganon is the earth, and Link is my escapist reality. These places are the eyes that take in the world that is my escapist reality.

     I am an escapist. My mind is not bound by the limits of the physical world because my escapist reality lives on paper and is created by a pen. In this reality I decide what is and what isn't. The world is clay on the potter's wheel for me to mold. With my pen I create other realities inside my own. It's not Inception, don't even make the joke. It makes a hell of a lot more sense and it's what keeps my from erasing the body and setting this mind free. With the pen I paint a picture that can only exist in my unique mind. When other's see it, all eyes see it differently. I could paint a picture of sorrow and death and it could be seen by some as a picture of hope and renewal. I can be anyone or anything I want to. I could be a man on his last leg fulfilling his last wishes or take the place of the wind traveling to places one could only dream of. I could even be one of those bound to the earth, a person who I long to be. Pens are the legs that take me on the journey back to this world.

     I am an escapist. My mind is not bound by the limits of the physical world. There is a bridge that allows me and only me, to travel back to this world. I'm not going to leave it standing long, though. I have a brother who depends on me and the bridge will remain for as long as he needs. People insist the bridge need to be burned immediately. What they don't realize is I wont be on the same side that they are when I do. As fantastic as this sounds, not enough control leads to chaos. The body is a vessel that gives my mind limited time here each day. That time is never enough to accomplish anything that I need to. This world is a hospital full of those suffering from the disease of attachment. You may hate being hospitalized because you're not well cared for, but be thankful that you're being cared for at all because I'm not. There are 6.5 billion patients here, keep that in mind. When I'm given my hours here, I beg and plead to be admitted only to be refused. I wish I could be like you, hospitalized and cared for, but I'm not suffering from attachment and the problems of this world can no longer touch me. I am an escapist. My mind has been banished by the limits of the physical world.