Samson — Escape to India

Ink in sketchbook.

Ink in sketchbook.

This Samson is not inspired by the Bible or Milton’s Samson.

I didn’t mean to make his eyes so crazy. Hopefully they hold some wisdom.

So here is the deal. I’ve written this post before, but for some reason it was deleted.

Round Two.

I have decided that I’m going to India next summer to teach English. For the past few summers I have become dreadfully depressed. So, why not escape.

I’m worried that it’s just a whim. It’s really easy to say that I’m going to India. “I’m going to India.” But what about the money, the apartment, the cats?

It could also be just the desire to escape. I have always had that need. I spent most of my childhood cradled in the arms of my imagination. After seeing 101 Dalmatians, I played the part of a frolicking puppy for a few hours. I would crawl over to my mom and ask if I could be a dog. She would say yes, of course.

I remember the moment I couldn’t escape anymore. We were camping and it was raining. My cousin and I were playing faeries, but it wasn’t working very well. As the rain dripped off the tip of my nose, I looked at her.

“This isn’t working.”

“And It’s raining.”

We ran back to the trailer to get dry.

After that, for the one time a year that we would see each other, the conversation turned to sex and the drugs we had tried. We would go to parties on the beach and ogle boys. At my Dad’s wedding in Vegas, we both came to breakfast hungover.

I also started seeing myself differently. I would compare my body to her fit one. My frizzy hair to her smooth and naturally blonde locks.

We don’t see each other too often anymore. I wonder how things would be now.

Sure, I have my escapes. I delve into books, and the computer screen. I swim through my various hobbies. But sometimes I get the sense that I am not made for this existence. I am the ultimate daydreamer. Go ahead, role your eyes. But don’t you want to escape? Don’t you get tired of all the little hammers chiselling away at your foundations?

 

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This entry was published on Wednesday, July 23, 2014 at 6:24 pm. It’s filed under Artwork, Short Non-Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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