The most popular thing for people to do is spend their weekends going out, drinking, and getting inebriated in order to escape the dull monotony of the reality in which we exist: escapism. But whether it is booze, drugs, sex, love, music, art, religion, writing, or even mundanely working 40+ hours per week—these are all just ways of stimulating the imagination and keeping the mind busy, for it is the imagination that provides us the only true means of escape. It is, after all, a universe within a universe.
Our entire existence is spent running from our reality. Why is this? What is it that lies at the core of this reality that is so utterly frightening we need distract ourselves at every turn, every hour, every waking second? Even your dreaded “work” is but a distraction—a thing you substitute for purpose to distract you from the despair of simply existing. Indeed, your work becomes your purpose. You all run from life, constantly. It is all you do, truly, and yet, some of you have the audacity to bring new life into this world, knowing full-well what it entails: a constant, desperate attempt to escape it.