I sometimes escape to random times and places in the in the universe where I am someone other than myself. It’s not that I don’t like being me. I love who I am and where I am in life, but movies, and Hollywood as a whole, have infiltrated my head with the idea that it might be beautiful to escape to some place elsewhere. At least for a little while.
I can already see it. I’d be carefree in a small artsy apartment. I’d be a painter. I’d have just enough money to have a middle-class life but I’d be grateful because my desire would be creativity and not wealth after all. I’d be single, but appealing to men who search for some wholesome young lady with depth and insight into the smallest things—-things that don’t typically matter to common men.
I’d be soft spoken, never seeking to be seen, but to be known and have my work esteemed because I’d make a difference. I’ve always wanted to make a difference.
“Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson