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Gira 3h
What’s the difference between escapism and avoidance?
“There isn’t one, they’re synonyms”
I used to think that too
Because I have been lying to myself for the past three years
“It’s just a quick break”
“I’m just winding down and then I’ll get things done”
And yet
Night after night
I find myself lying in bed at 1:30 am
Staring blankly at my phone
Watching anything I can get my hands on to escape
And scrambling the next day to get anything I avoided done
I think that I’m simply just escaping into another world
To take a break from reality
When really I’m avoiding everything that I need to get done
I’ve been lying to myself for 1128 days today
Because I cannot get myself motivated to do anything
I tell myself that I'll get it done in a minute
But I know it won't be done until weeks after it was due
I thought it was simply just escapism
But I am a devout avoidance practicer
There is a difference between escapism and avoidance
Because escapism is a temporary break to set your mind straight
And avoidance is escaping everything at any cost.
another S.A.D piece
Gira 3h
There’s a pile of papers
Sitting on my desk
Staring at me
Taunting me
Its eyes blink slowly
And I stare back
Wondering should I get started?
No, I’ll do it later
That was a month ago
It’s a daily struggle now
I’m not avoiding it, I swear
I moved the pile to the corner of the room
So it couldn’t stare at me anymore
The pile has gotten higher
taller
Looming over me
Disappointed that I’d rather read than finish them
Its eyes narrow and it frowns at me
Its stare boring into my back
Revealing the hole where all of my motivation
Dripping out
Drip
Drip
drip
I’m not avoiding it!
I’m not..
I...
But I don’t have any excuses to not do it
another piece I use for S.A.D
Gira 4h
Chk-! Chk-! Chk-!
Woosh!
The tree falls down and I gather the wood that falls
It fills up my inventory.
An imaginary world controlled by a few keyboard clicks and mouse movements
It’s not real but
It better than my real life
I’m an escapist of reality
Because anywhere else would be better than this
The pile of homework on my desk begs to differ
But I ignore it
I’ve been injured in a great dual.
One of mighty wizards and witches, all battling for freedom.
One of the medics heals my wounds, I watch as the skins magically starts coming back together
Good as new
As if it had never happened
I wish paper cuts healed that fast
There’s a dozen on my fingers from school work
But let’s not think about that! Back to the great fantasy
Away from my real life
Away from everything
My escape
After all…
my break hour isn’t over yet
definitely a minecraft reference
a piece I use for S.A.D
lauren Mar 8
Daring spirits search for delirium in a city of opportunity.
Enthralled by the endless possibilities,
The blinding lights and abandonment of time.
They crave excitement,
Yearning for the surge of adrenaline in their blood.
The sweet taste of freedom.
Yan F Mar 7
in my mind
           all i really
      wanted
      was mind enough
         to say no...
                  and yet
as i had knelt...
and as i had pleaded..
     all i could ask for
                                    was ignorance
               and all i could say
          was thank you
                          for all the venom---
                   still
           it
                              feels just
              a little bit sad
                                  i couldn't
  ask for more...
                               more drops
                          by
              drops
wishing
  ­                                wanting
                         ­                                              waiting
                   washing down
       falling



       even deeper






       ever faster
    






                                              ­intoxicating
sating myself more and more in this
scrumptouos feast of more and more
                 and with every single mouthful
i take in
                  my appetite begs for more and more
       yes
                           i am a wolf.
           the lowest of the low
                     in a tripartite soul.
and i can't help
                            but fill myself up
     no matter how much
                  i weigh myself down.
                                      i just want more.
                          more of bullets
       for every single word you say
                  more of icicles
              for every single awkward touch
more of daggers
                for every single glare you look me
                 down with

                                   more of poison
       for every single lie you make me swallow
        forcefully down my own throat saying
        that you've always been true

                                                           ­  more of you...
for every single night i waste
away lying wide awake lying
to myself about not regretting
every sound i taught, trained
my tongue to incarcerate until
you were no longer there to listen

                       more of flames.
        the feeling i get whenever you
         quench my burning aching hunger.

                more of flames
that blazing glimmer i become
when everyone looks at all my
scars with disappointment.

                               i want more of flames.
                     and i just want to burn it all down
along with you.
                  and then
                                   i'd happily engulf myself
     engorge myself
                                  on all our
shared
                     pain
                                                         and
                                misery
     knowing that no one will ever
           knowingly share anything else with me...
                                                                let me bask
                     at least one last supper
in the blissful toxin
                                   of our cannibalism
                   and one last time
                       we'll cast a miracle and
     burn
                               in the gluttony
of our lustful intersuffering
                                                  ­drowning drunk
        from the deathly fermentation
                        of our own flowing blood
              knowing
    we'll never again
                          have to wake up
                 with a killer of a hangover tomorrow.
requested by~~ i*** and a****~~ quite difficult actually, i hope i don't disappoint you two :<

anyway, it is not like this is much of an anecdote to my life but this really resonates to me a lot, and honestly i based this on a friend of mine  and it really isn't an unusual thing anyway.

ever tried to tell the world to f*c* off? it's kind of hard to do it when you're acting humane and all alone...

anyway, thanks for reading!!! please let me know what you think i could improve on this style on the comments :3

~~
ps. king for a day by ptv rules.
Matthew Feb 26
You take the box
and strike a match against your skin
The flames seeming to clean your
old wounds.
You don't notice your scorched red skin
and broken fingers.
As you take another,
I hear the match against your flesh
Your heavy breathing,
your shaking hands,
and rigid smile.
You enjoy this pain
much more
Don't you
Connor Anon Feb 18
This morbid visage does often tell,
Of the strife and torment that knew me well.
Without the veil of innocent youth,
I find my heart burdened with truth.
For a man as self conscious as me,
No respite from insecurity.
To a prisoner in chains I am akin,
Ever on the outside, looking in.
My heart wavers for I lack conviction,
To break away cursed inhibitions.
Never can I remedy this,
So I escape myself and enter bliss.
For when I am not who I know I am,
I am free from the pain that keeps me ******.
Some thoughts on the concept of the escapism some people experience when in times of stress.
Lifted from the river of routine
Wring from me, the wetness of weary
Let me dry upon the soil of desire
I stand in fields formed by the fantastic
On each vine I spy
Time growing ripe and restless
Hearts swelling in soft feeling
Laughter long and lasting
And everything is in abundance
So I ****, pluck, pick
Accumulating these unclaimed riches
And bottle them into wine
A thousand bottles I store
Then the fine liquid touches my tongue
Delight dances upon the taste buds
And I’m wealthy, in love, in time, in laughter
For years I do this
Learning nothing new or worthy
Banning all knowledge
For even a single frayed book
Could disturb
All of this
Bliss
Though the Isle may be different for each person, we escape there all the same..
Matthew Jan 19
A Dream of a sun
beating down on our bodies
skin sweating
as we laugh
fatuous days
going by
as we smile
Perfect tranquility

But I woke up...
Things never last forever.  I love poems with bittersweet endings because they reflect reality more than anything else.
Kai Jan 14
We are intertwined you and I
mingling together at the support
we are stuck together from the dirt to the sky
you choke me at the roots

Me blossoming as you creep from below
tangling with me at the bottom
like creeping ivy, over me you grow
till breathe does not come from my lungs

I wither slowly when I'm with you
but your my support now
without it any weight topples me, even gentle dew
Breaking away would sprout new roots

but where would they plant
other then in the holes you carved
I need new roots I need a transplant
away from the rocks and the lacing cracks

Fresh soil and a breath of clear air
wear my leaves can spread out
without crushing of lungs and the ghastly tare
Freedom, oxygen, and happiness will wait for me

So for now I'm entangled with you in fear
a dark vine twisted around me
but soon I will escape from your **** leer
and with gentle sighs will bloom once again
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