Escaping Reality

​Regardless of what everyone might tell you, real life isn’t all that interesting. If it was, we wouldn’t have escapist media like movies and fantasy novels. Over time, the lush veneer of the exterior gives way to the dull, drab interior of mundane, monotonous existence. We get stuck in a rut and wish for an escape from this world where every day is the same.

I’m the kind of guy who daydreams. A lot. I also procrastinate a lot, so that mixed with the daydreams means that most of my days are spent in a semi-conscious haze of actual decisions and frantic work to meet deadlines. I used to be so addicted to dreaming of possible future scenarios and alternate timelines of my life that even the first piece of fiction I wrote involved daydreaming as its central plot point.

So what is it about reality that bores me and pushes me into daydream mode? Maybe it’s the fact that I am unsatisfied with my life and want one with more action and a better starting position, so to speak. Maybe it’s the fact that every day is kind of the same and the routines have lost their novelty. But that’s not what this post is about. I’ll admit, this is probably the most honest I’ve ever been when writing on this blog. So this is like a confession that I’m (kind of) ready to put out there.

I keep blabbering to people about how honest I am when it comes to uncomfortable truths and why they’re immature for finding it hard to accept them. Sure, I do blurt out uncomfortable truths without thinking, even in situations where convention dictates otherwise. The problem is that I lie to myself all the time. And that translates into lying to others subconsciously.

Over the years, I’ve carefully crafted an exterior which, to me, is close to perfection. Hard as a rock, calm even in the worst of situations, detached from everything and just a macho man who never cries. But my whole personality is built on these lies. I’m a soft crybaby inside and though it might look like I couldn’t care less about burning bridges, I am actually really affected by them inside. I don’t know if people can often see through the bullshit exterior personality I’ve created or not. Maybe they can, and just don’t bring it up. Who knows?

What’s more, I actually advise people to not conform to preconceived notions of how they should look and/or behave. I advocate a lifestyle that places importance on personal freedom and rights and not bending to society’s ever-shifting likes. And yet, here I am, moulding a fake personality that has everything people might expect from modern men. Unflinching in the face of crises, detached from negative emotions, never sad or in sorrow. So yeah, hello world, hypocrite here. 👋

Moving on, I always advise people (Yeah, I should stop doing that altogether. 😅) to look for the good in people. I believe in the fact that humans are neither black nor white, it’s a whole grey area. So despite the fact that humans are grey when it comes to morality and general goodness, I usually advice the people around me and proclaim that I only look at the good in people. Turns out, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I’m always doubtful, almost cynical, of the moves people make. Maybe a help here or there, or a favor without me asking for it. Stuff like that always brings out the skeptic in me. When people are kind towards me, I tend to act defensively and see it as a way to accomplish their own selfish needs. I try to find motives behind the kind acts of people around me and in my life, even when there are none. I think and overthink trying to come up with possible favors they might ask of me in the near future. I know I’m an asshole for doing this, but it’s just the way I am; this is the real me. I’ve been trying real hard to change, and progress has been slow and uncertain. This might seem pretty obvious to the people in my life, but it’s really hard to admit to myself that I’m a cynic.

Another thing that happens is that I often catch myself in between all this negative thinking and then get disgusted at myself. I beat myself down about it and that usually triggers my depression. And once that sets in, boy, there’s no coming back.

Before I close this confession and move back into myself to sob over what I have become (not really 😅), here’s a bonus point to in case I still haven’t managed to convince you. I’m such a hypocrite I actually write about how society is filled with hypocrites. Oh the irony! It took me the greater part of a month to come to terms with this and find the courage to sit down and actually write this. The experience hasn’t been easy, what with me facing all the negative traits in me that I’d usually hate in others, but I find myself trying in earnest now to change myself, to reach a state I’ve labelled simply as Not This.

I believed it was the experiences someone had that shaped his or her writing. For me, writing this post has had a similar, albeit reversed, effect; the writing is beginning to shape who I am as a person. As this shitty year comes to a close and a hopeful new year glimmers in the horizon, I hope this shitty part of my personality dies with 2016,and I’m a better person next year. Happy Holidays everyone! 

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