Reality is merely a persistent illusion

There is a certain satisfaction in getting lost. Gripping the air around me and not feeling attached to anything. No pasts to catch up with me. No futures that I can predict. Only unturned stones on unbeaten paths. Throwing myself into the wild where the only bodies that have touched me are the sun and the moon, it makes me feel like I could be free. Sometimes it is a burden to carry others on my back, sometimes staying in one place collects under my skin and I reek of comfort zones and promises to never go. The indefinite and the unknown can be an entire canvas of safe spaces. I can paint the world over again, create my own landmarks, make sure that hurt doesn’t find me under hole-in-the-wall restaurant tables or atop the shortest branch of a tree in the forest. A little escape is all I need sometimes. It’s hard to pretend I can live my entire life in a box.