Escape Fantasies and Why They Still Suck

I have what a psychiatrist called "escape fantasies." Fairly self-explanatory - you dream of escaping your life, going somewhere new where you can live a whole new, super-fantastic life! Mine usually involves a deserted beach in Mexico with a cooler and a book.

Here's the catch - I have to pack me. Yep, the worst company in the world, my own blamed self, is along for the ride. So, it doesn't really matter HOW fabulous my imaginary beach is, because I'm still the one sitting on it! And I actually can't stand me right about now, so that ruins the whole escape part of the fantasy! It's pitiful, truly, but I can't seem to imagine up a satisfactory escape that excludes me so that it would be fun.

So now I'm just stuck here in my own life, and lemme tell you what that is like when depressed. It is wholly boring and worthless, that's how. It is actually intolerable. I can't stand my house, my furniture, my food, my clothes, my reflection, any tv show or movie, any books - even sudoku irritates me! I just scrubbed the you-know-what out of my sink, and guess what: it is still my ugly old aluminum sink. Yep, just like when I clean the mirror, it is same old ugly me looking in it. And when I cleaned my room, it was my same ugly clothes I was putting away in my EXCESSIVELY ugly bathroom.

Here's my new escape fantasy: a giant garbage truck pulls up to my house, and I dump in the entire contents of my home. That's as far as it's gotten since, at that point, the only thing in the fantasy is me, and we covered what that's like already. I can't sleep tonight (although I was falling all over myself tired earlier in the evening). I don't know how I'm going to distract myself from myself until I do finally go unconcious. This is where I understand drug users. The idea of just taking a pill and this all leaves makes so much sense. Lucky for me, I have a stupid conscience and drug abuse seems to rub it the wrong way. Besides, all that will do is bring on tomorrow faster, and tomorrow is just another today waiting to happen. See what crappy company I am?

I'm reminding myself of that SNL skit where Rachel Dratch is a big old party-pooper. Y'all remember that one? She kills every attempt at conversation with some depressing fact about the state of the world spoken in a dour tone of voice. Yep, that's me. Except I'm not getting paid or famous from it like she is. Ok, I'm through talking; I can't stand myself. Good night.