MY ESCAPE FROM REALITY

I love my stories.

They help me escape reality. I read whenever possible and if I'm not reading stories, I'm writing them. I can’t stand non-fiction, I believe it is basically memorizing facts, I mean I might as well read a telephone directory. The only non-fiction books I might read are biographies, filled to the brim with page turning scandals and surprises.
For me it is all about the characters. That is why I love novels. They are written in such a way, that you don't have a choice but to follow the characters until the end. All truthfulness, I would skip boring parts of a story but urge myself to continue reading for the sake of the characters.

Novels are basically the horrors of reality fashioned into one glamorous tale of lies, deceit, lust ...and of course love. Well, that is why I read really, love. Is that a weird quirk? I mean, that’s my thing isn't it? Everyone has their thing; from the woman who can’t sleep unless she has her feet facing north to the grandpa with a hidden collection of "interesting" magazines form the 60's and such. Their thing is their thing, and mine is mine. Right?

Sometimes I create my own characters and play out their stories I'm my head. My own movies I call 'em. I lie on my bed for ages wondering how my sub conscience is going to end this one. When I'm in the process of reading a book, I sometimes spice things up, adding a character and such playing out the consequences in my head.

I go anywhere to find peace, sometimes my family wonders where Ive been for the past couple of hours, but they honestly don't realize I'm missing for until I reappear. My mother believes I'm not right in the head, that something is wrong. I was not always so to myself, but now however, away from my real home and in a jungle I don't understand all I have are my stories. They are my only escape from the pains of the world. People tell me I shouldn't try to escape the real world.


But, why not try to escape; it is not like reality is any good.