It is not often that anyone is completely and blissfully unaware of the world around them. Reality has a tendency to pound on the door as hard as it can the moment you even attempt to block it out. But everybody has their escape. Whether it be fire, rain or food. But yours, yours comes in pages. Whether they be crinkly and yellowed with age, stained with some unknown substance or crisp and newly bought. Bearing the musty smell of an age old library or the lingering scent of a modern bookstore. One way or another it is all the same to you. As long as there are words on a page that tell a story different than yours, you are content.
For now, you think you will curl up on the couch; that couch in front of the fire with the view of the clouds and lightning out the window. A background that can not be beaten. The pounding of pouring rain on window panes and the occasional roll of thunder washing over you. And you, completely oblivious to every second of it; yet aware of each individual rain drop. You are the happiest you have been in a long time sitting there. With everything to worry about and refusing to acknowledge any of it. You have got your book in your hand and the room to yourself. That in itself is unusual. Oftentimes you are forced elsewhere for solitude, whether it be outdoors in the shade of a giant oak or hidden in the neglected corner of the library.
Perhaps reality has pounded a little too hard lately for everyone. Perhaps escape is the only way to shut it out anymore. There are only so many times you can sit tensely at breakfast waiting for more bad news. Thinking you will be prepared for it this time. Thinking this time you won't break down, that this time nobody will. And knowing you will never succeed, you will never be ready. Years from now, you will still wait anxiously for the morning news. Even after this is all over, the cold reality that life is will always seem to be waiting for you around the corner. Unforgiving and uncaring.
Except right now. Right now you know. You know you are doing the best you can to take everything in stride. You know you are capable of handling any curve anybody may throw at you. You know eventually everything will be as it should be. And if you contribute to that end, you will have done more than anybody can possibly ask for.
But for now, you think you'll submerse yourself in another person's problem. Another person's reality. You'll tune out your own life, your own problems, your own reality. The couch on which you reside, the soft crinkle that only fire can make, the continuous drone of the rain, each clap of thunder will drop off in the background. And so, you open your book and begin to read.
Note – This is the first thing I've written that I've ever bothered to post. Most of the things I write, I write for myself. I had a couple people in mind when I wrote it, including myself, but you're free to take what you like out of it. Hope you like it even if it is a little choppy and random and doesn't seem to make much sense.
