how do you escape?

"How do you escape?" she asked me. I can't obviously tell her name but she was once my closest friend. Now she is just a passerby.

There are actually many ways to escape how you feel, or how the world feels at this moment. Among a hundred ways that i dont know yet, i only have three. The first will always be books, i think i wouldn't have survived till now if i hadn't discovered what poetry could do to my body, my heart and my mind. 

Second,  will always be my favorite dramas about life. Recently i have been watching " because this is my first life." I feel like those characters are a part of my family. They consoled me my when days were tough. 

Third, will be lying in bed besides my mother just to not feel lonely. 

I think there are many little ways to escape this moment but i choose only three because i feel these will be constant and won't leave me. They say to be in this moment but it's not possible even to those who say this because we can't be living in the moment all 365 days. Why so ? I dont know, it's just hard. We all do escape, sometimes it's a sad moment and we don't intend to be there and sometimes the place we escape to is the happiest one to be.

There was a time when my escape was a person. But now it's been years and i feel your escape should never be a person because they can disappear anytime, anyday when you need them the most. Your escape should be something that will stand still in all the storms and against the transient world. 

I know it's hard to find something as such because at the end everything is changing but still an escape should be like home: a place that will welcome your arrival, that will soothe your anxious heart and will patiently wait for you to return back. Something you can rely on. I find my poetry books on my shelf, my dramas, and my mother more reliable than any other human being here in this world, for now atleast. You never what tomorrow holds maybe i start advocating that having a human being besides your mom as an escape is still a good idea but until now i am doing well, really well.

I feel the souls of writers in this world have melancholy mixed in their blood. So no matter what they do, a part of them is always little sad as if sorrow runs in their family. Perhaps thats why often everyone often asks a writer is it necessary to be sad to write? I think sadness was only a path that led them to choose writing as their escape and now they are called as writers. Are they really that passionate about writing ? Or are they all just escaping this moment?

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