Ever wanted to go to an adventure, but felt confined by the limits of reality? A sense of anxiety to find your place in the giant world that is the now? Vacations feel short, as the responsibilities of the future pile up like paperwork. In other words, it's a stressful life for people to cope with the changing reality that is their own. It would be nice to find shelter and relief in imagination, like the old days, when everything was simple and clean.
Escapism:
I don't want to go back.
It's too peaceful here.
Alone, without rules and regulation.
I stare at an oblivion with scattered lights.
A sky void of sun, but illuminated
by the trillions of beacons wished upon
each evening.
The omnipotent dusk shrouds me
in a veil of obscurity, where I sit
alone at last.
Black as slumber; pure as glossy obsidian.
Infinite as the void;
More primordial than
the microscopic particle that I gaze from.
It's beautiful, and it's silent.
I'm alone at last.
…And yet,
the loudest oscillations from my pocket
eviscerates the harmony.
And leaks out like blood from a wound.
My phone breaks into discord,
its face updating me to
"Come back 😊"
To return home, the prison of routine anxieties.
Each chime is a death knell.
It reminds me of my time is short.
A rending of perfection,
the spelling of the
THE END.
It yearns for my undivided attention.
It's a necessity; it's a luxury.
It's an annoyance.
And yet, I submit.
I am a slave to this paradox
of obeying and rejecting.
So, I begin to wish upon the nocturnal sky,
On a silver star, I pick out of the trillions
to receive my wishes—my illusions—
of escapism.
To escape the rules and duties—the shackles—of my reality
And dive into the heart of my fantasy.
And be truly alone at last.
Like I have always dreamed of
