far away

I guess it is my escapist nature. Fantasies of disappearing involve places far away. A ship to Antarctica. A field in Montana. A Tibetan prayer tent in the Himalayas. I dream of being far away, and ending there. No one I know can see me, or stop me.

There is no enjoyment now. Disappearing into the vast made up world of media,  lying in bed recovering from the physical pain of living, and the psychological pain of those whose time is dying.  Why not me? No one suspects. No one would guess. The places I go. So low so low. I want not to exist. Really. But dying seems … so difficult. Far away, it’s easier.