I’ve been quite the reclusive writer as of late. An escape from reality for me was long overdue anyway. I found a bunch of old drafts and ideas that I had jotted down for the many stories that I never finished or barely started. I feel like I’m reconnecting with old friends whenever I read up on old characters and feeling like I’m reconnecting with my own self as well.
It was always my plan to get back to my writing roots and start back from scratch with my stories and other creative projects. When things in reality turn incredibly ugly like with what’s been happening after the Charlottesville incident and the like it makes it easier to escape. It makes me imagine a world that I’d rather be apart of and people I’d vastly prefer than the people I know.
Of course these escapes can only last for so long. There’s always something in my reality that’s always calling me back against my will; academic responsibilities, people who need me, the fact that I’m going to have my hands filled with other stuff like paying off bills and debts, finding a real job, being a normal functioning member of society….ya’know? All that good stuff.
I’ve been keeping my distance from other people in my life. Including friends I’ve had before I left for Boone. At first I didn’t want to have to deal with people and hear about how great their lives were when I was struggling for the longest time with everything. But now it’s the opposite. Some of them are having their own share of problems as well. If I were the same person I was three years ago then I’d take the time to listen, to help them unload their burden. But I’m not that person anymore. I’ve got problems of my own to worry about. The current state of the world sure doesn’t help either. I don’t need a constant reminder of how horrible things are with Trump in the White House, a bunch of Neo-Nazi shit heads looking to cause trouble, or whatever other issue of the week keeps going on; police brutality, ISIS, and the constant starvation and poverty in Venezuela where my family is from. I see all of this on my social media so I’m forced to disconnect.
The world as I know it now is a toxic place to live in for people like me that deal with depression and anxiety and for those that don’t. I don’t want to run away from reality because I know I have to learn to deal with it all. But I’m only one person with limited means of doing so and my patience can only last for so long.
Normally I’d be questioning myself and overthink things like, “Does this make me a bad person?” “Am I a coward?” Or something to that effect.
But I know that’s not the case. I’m making a choice based on self-preservation. If the world is toxic then it makes sense that someone doesn’t want to be exposed to it. And I genuinely don’t care if anyone disagrees with me on this. This is for me, not for them. Besides even if I wan’t to do something to change the world on an epic scale I can’t do that when I’m not even 100% in the clear with my own issues.
All I have is myself, my writing, and an imagination that’s the closest thing I have to a cure-all. I used to believe that indulging myself in my writing consistently meant that I was just running away from everything; the state of the world, the things that fuel my depression, being single and lonely, drowning in crippling debt, and overall things not going my way. But that doesn’t have to be the case. Losing myself in my own world could be beneficial. I’m not just talking about getting a head start on my writing career. But perhaps in writing I’ll find answers to questions about myself that have bothered me for the longest time and learn how to better understand the reality I live in and better cope with the things that challenge me. That’s what I believe anyway.
In my own little world there are things that come straight from the fantasy novels. Monsters, sorcery, giant mechs, superheroes, etc etc. Sometimes I think a world where these things are included automatically mean I’d be living in a better reality. At least then things would make more sense. There’d be heroes fighting the good fight against the villains and make them pay for their crimes. I wouldn’t be struggling to figure what’s truly right or wrong. I’d know which side to fight on.
In my own little world people are not judged on their religion, their gender, who they’re attracted to, the color of their skin, the languages they speak, or whatever interests they have. People are not defined by their struggles or anything else that makes them feel like dirt about themselves. People are defined by their desires and the actions that they take to make those desires into reality.
People wouldn’t have to struggle over things like money, food, medicine, education, and if anyone or anything gets in the way of these things then they’d go down.
In my own little world that I’m trying to make into a reality…
I’m happy with a man that I love and want to spend the rest of my days with. I’m successful in my career as a writer. I live in a beautiful home. I’ve graduated from App State. I’m depression-free.
Thats all got to say tonight. Later.