The Escape through Me Dreams

Escapism is a wonderful thing. I think everything we love in life is about escapism - our passions and dreams, mostly. So I waste most of my time dreaming, escaping to another world - supposedly the future - where I can be better than what I am today.

Not that I hate me. I love me. I think me is doing pretty good, sitting really pretty. Yet, after some hours, me can get a bit tired, a bit bored. That is when me will be thinking using my heart rather than my head. Because when me think with me heart, me get a little happier. But of course, me heart is often too foolish to be thinking about reality.

Me want to write. Me want to spend the whole week doing nothing but reading and writing. It is me's real dream, true dream. Me look at me books and me want to devote me whole life for such purpose.

Me return to the real world and me know that here, at least, such could not be done. Quite sad, really. Me so jealous of Orhan Pamuk. He had the courage to be unemployed after college for six years, living with his mom to write and publish. And now Mr Pamuk is a Nobel Laureate.

Me want to write like me favourite writers - Haruki Murakami and Orhan Pamuk and Jane Austen.

Me often thinks, what is holding me back? Is it laziness or fear that everything me do would be in vain? But me must work hard. Me must try. Life's good and meaningful with tries. Always attempting to achieve something that is loved. Passion must be pursued. So me can be passionate people. Like me have always wanted.

Me books that me love