Run

There are times when, lying on your bed with a blanket of music, you feel as though your current life doesn’t matter.

Transported to another world, you start to view the worries in your life in detached insignificance. You start to feel as though grades don’t matter anymore. In fact you feel pathetic when you start thinking about them. You feel pathetic that you’ve ever placed such unwarranted troubles and attention on them, disregarding many other things and people in the process.

Trapped in another universe, you start to ride along the waves. You wish you could play catching with your friends in the midst of falling autumn leaves, you wish you could throw snowballs at them. You wish you could lie with him, or her, on the grass in fields and groves far away, you wish you could be together by the fireplace every night. You wish you could have some time alone too, you wish you could have a nice sleep. You wish for old times to return, and you wish to continue being trapped.

At the same time, the alternative reality you would experience could not be more real. The walls, the ceiling, the borders of your world, are real, the blanket of music as warm as it gets. You live within your own mind, and your own imagination is real.

What isn’t real is what lies outside your door. The tragedy of it all comes when you open it, and realize that that’s not true, and that’s when you start to face the music of a different kind.