Escapism is not always bad. It is neither always cowardice nor always fear that initiates the mode of flight over fight. Truly, serendipity and madness follow hand-in-hand in the pursuit of escape in such a way as to reap much unplanned benefit from propelling one's self uninhibited to execute impulsive thought otherwise unimaginable, or even if not unimaginable, previously unimportant or inconsequential to one's sense of achievement.
I quite like escapism. It has sent me across the world and then some, inundating my soul with (some might say) useless philosophy which though conceptualised and understood, plays little part in the reality of my life. My life is at best, disjuncted; a series of accidents that stumble unprepared into the next phase and the only thing keeping the momentum going (besides God and many would say in spite of) is adrenaline fueled by wanting to discover what lies over the horizon. Though experience tells me each horizon reveals a hue closer to tangible reality than fancy or fantasy and though with each passing horizon, my mind becomes more disillusioned, there is still an urgency to press on at cost to myself for the present is expectantly marked by foreboding uncertainty, sending ears twitching nervously and feet itching to flee.
You will find no leaping, graceful, sure-footed gazelle here, only a curiousity, appearing saturated to some and void to another, seeking to satiate mindlust.