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Escape.

Books, movies, video games, and — most commonly, ever-more prominently — sex and drugs are repeatedly labeled as “escapisms,” which has always fascinated me. People get stuck not so much on the notion of escapism but on what inherent characteristic escapism implies resides in the one who practices it: namely, weakness. People see those utilizing these escapisms as doing so because they are too weak, immature, afraid to deal with the real world that those who do not utilize escapisms have to deal with, and suffer under the mighty reigns of.

Well, fuck those associations.

Think about the notion of escapism. What are we escaping from, where are we escaping to, why are we trying to escape? The accusation of participating in an escapism always brought to my mind the image of us living in a prison, and my escapism acting as a sort of short-term parole.

They’re just jealous. They’re too afraid to leave these familiar prison walls, and they want you condemned to the same fate.

Ask yourself this, about drugs, forever christened an escapism: why is drug use higher in some places than in others? Regardless, the more drug use in a specific area, the less people in that area, it would seem, are happy with that area, at least without the use of said drugs. If we are to judge a culture by any meaningful standard, it must be by how satisfied its respective populace is. So the more drug use, the more the society would appear to be failing. The populace feels trapped and has nowhere to hide, run, escape from the feeling but within, and so they seek out tools that allow them to fall in the zone, find comfort within, while blotting out as much of the external environment and circumstances as conceivably possible.

Ever wonder why meditation developed in the East, by poor people in the fucking desert?

There. Now you know.

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