Escapist - a person who escapes into a world of fantasy. wishful thinker, dreamer
I feel like a bad person. Not in the moral, I-just-kicked-a-puppy-and-stole-a-kid’s-candy type of way, but in the fact that I haven’t written anything worthwhile in about a month. The ideas that normally spring into my brain at random and sometimes inopportune moments just haven’t been coming to me as easily this past month, but I sense a change in the air. I've been an avid reader much of my life , gettin lost in the rich fantasy life of others. I guess in order to escape the reality of mine.
I've always had a wild imagination, even as a kid, i remember wanting to play alone, even for just a few hours so i could make up some fantastical game in my head, be it...a plantet inhabited with my little pony's, where i wouldnt be judged for combing their hair & singing loudly the biggest hit on the pop station at the time or even just making up two or three characters in my head & bring them to life in my backyard. Running around acting as if i had the best game in the world.. & Of course my brother tried to see fit to stifle my imagination, calling me weird or saying thats stupid, he did'nt wanna play that.
I had a friend in the second and third grade, lets call her "Amanda" for the sake of this entry. She alone opened my eyes to the far corners of my imagination. she was a loner in school (a rebel, as pee wee herman would say) and she didnt care what others thought of her, at the time..at a grade school mentality..that was social suicide. She was ostracized a great deal, and snickered at.
'I just had a brainflash' I'll tell ya who she reminds me of, if you have ever seen the movie Napoleon Dynamite, she looks like Tina Majorino's character Deb. Except for the side pony tail, her hair was usually flowing wildly & it was crimped ( it was really big at the time) most of the time.
Well Anyways, there was this big oak tree at the edge of our school playground. she called it the castle ( and it was usually base for tag, if we were run off, or if i were playing with other kids) She was very into medievil type roleplaying, usually it was just her and I, but i would sometime make a few friends join us, to the dismay ( as my brother) of grumbles and screaching of new ideas to us. She was one of the most unique people ive met in my life, and even as a kid i appreciated that. Maybe it was because i knew i was different as well, I was seeking out others in need of something i needed. an escape.
When i was around nineteen, I had my first real "adult job " at a factory in Jackson. I was on break and just about to clock back in, when before my eyes was "Amanda"...Now keep in mind i hadnt seen her since the last day of third grade. (i even have the tablet she signed on the back, remember when we used to do that on the last day of school? it was like a signature to not forget your pals over the summer, simpler time eh?) I was hesitant about going up to her, but i did. It was an awkward reunion of sorts, we exchanged general pleasantries...and caught up on, in what time would allow...before we both rushed back to work. She seemed broked, sad.. a shell of the girl who i remembered. I guess that happens in life, when you live inside your head. I never told her how much i admired her, looking back now, im positve she needed to hear that. would it have changed any outlook she may of had on life?, probably not. But, it would of been nice to hear it , im sure.
“Solid stone is just sand and water, baby. Sand and water and a million years gone by.”- Beth Nielsen Chapman It’s a simple enough thought. Time changes all things, no matter how large or small, strong or frail. I’m reminded of this daily, though I don’t always let it sink in as I probably should. It’s a simple testament to the power of time and even our concept of it.
I live in my head alot...not just with my imagination.. but with thoughts about everyday life, overthinking things, over analyzing relationships. Ive always had a problem vocalizing my thoughts. I sometimes wonder if God blessed me with a voicebox with stagefright.:)
My siblings dont understand me , never have..and even as a grown man in my early thirties, i should be at a point of acceptance of things around me. to understand that the world is so much bigger than I.
Believe me I know reality..I feel guilty that im as normal as i am, if that makes sense. It's so sad that i have to escape my siblings. but if i didnt id probably go crazy..from the troubled pasts and drug abuse, overstressed parents of teenagers, Bing-drinking know-it alls, co-dependant victims of physical abuse..i could go on and on.
and then theres Me..."the dreamer", the one with his head in the clouds, waiting on a "perfect" relationship, waiting on a life that is probably not in his cards...lying in wait and finding fault in those around him. Me, the one who takes on their problems begrudingly and hating them for it. Me, the one who feels guilty about typing the previous sentence. Me, forever the people pleaser. the Escapist.
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