If only I was in my world, where details don't matter.
Then I wouldn't really have to worry about the consequences of being clumsy or careless, or the acts of safety, or having to think through every detail, analyze and evaluate every process before making a decision, or being stressed out at the choices I make that might cause the slightest emotional upheave.
Probably then, my life would really be a blank canvas, where a splatter of paint or a blot of ink could jolly well be interpreted as something sophisticated and abstract, or simple and blatant. Just like coffee spills, or water stains - mistakes might be clumsily made, colors might be the best representation of my moods, and simple strokes of the paint brush might even depict a story.
Yes, if I lived in that world; my world, things will really seem so much laid-back, simple, serene and easy.
I would say this desire of running away to my world of fantasy seems to arise when I am facing an emotional struggle. Perhaps this is my defense mechanism of hiding from pain and fear, just like how an ostrich buries its head in the soil in times of danger. I know I shouldn't, but woe to me for being a slave to my emotions and thoughts, and thus far, running away and crying seems to be the only way to get over it.
Then again, who knows the crazy things I might do to appease my anger, or comfort my hurt? Definitely retail therapy, cutting drastic hair cuts, and painting my nails in a weird color helps!
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