A Search for an Escape

January 19, 2012
I feel lost. I don't know how I got here and I don't want to be here. How did I get here? My life is in pieces and I have no clue how to pick them up. I just want to escape this life and live in a different one.
Escape, I write it down on a yellow sheet of paper. "Escape" I say it out loud. The word flows like water out of a new faucet.
Ever since I saw Alice in Wonderland I've wanted to escape to a world of the unknown. I want to enter a world of all the things I like, I want to escape to my Utopia.
I'm not very pretty in this world, well at least not compared to what society defines as pretty. My eyes are too big, framed by bags from sleepless nights. I have plain brown hair, plain brown eyes that lack luster and twinkle. As well as a small pointy nose. My skin is the color of coffee with an excessive amount of creamer and my lips, they're small, except when I first wake up, I wonder why that is.
My body is average, average is all teenage boys need. Although extraordinary grabs their attention quickly and causes them to take a mental picture for later use. God, boys are so dirty.
Anyway, my Utopia, my escape, only one boy will manage to get into it, and for all the right reasons, I think. I'm not really sure of anything lately. Everything just sort of exists, with no certainty or real reason of why it exists. Like me, for example, I have no clue why I'm alive, but I sort of exist even without that sort of knowledge.
I look out of the window as I think of my getaway plan. It's November and the rain is falling steadily. It seems to wash away all the memories of summer and warmth. It reminds us that winter is coming in a matter of weeks and it will be cold, like my house.
I say cold like my house because I feel like a stranger here. Like I don't belong, this is someone Else's home. My room is warm and it causes the windows to fog up. Fog reminds me of how unclear life can be.
People say one thing, but mean another. I don't understand that. Then again I don't understand much at all. Like why people believe certain things. Like Jesus. I believe in him and all, though I'm not sure why. Why should we believe a story about a man who died on a cross for us. It's a pretty brutal thing to do for all of the selfish people alive today.
I think of what's clear and what's not as I lay on my bed. I close my eyes and fall deep into my Utopia, my dreams.
I can see my friends, the ones I truly like, not the ones I pretend to like. I can see my perfect little world, one with selfless people, caring people, loving people. The people I miss and the people that I love. Suddenly I am woken up to screaming and I'm sucked back to reality...





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