Escape fantasy

Where would you go if pressures built up so much that you couldn't bear to face them? What would you do to make money? Would you still keep in contact with anyone? Would you miss your old life? Would you come back sooner than you ever thought you would? Would you never come back? Do you have the guts to do it? If you don't, why not?

My parents and I didn't get along very well when I was a teen. I had gotten in a shouting match with my Dad once, who threw me across the room after I said something really mean, though I don't remember what. I sat on my bed and fumed, clenching and unclenching my fists, while he stood there mocking me, saying "you really hate me don't you?" I did, at the time. I told him I was leaving.

I got up off the bed, and grabbed a switchblade I had bought for $20. My Mom was sitting at the bottom of the stairs by the front door to stop me. I jumped over her and slammed the door behind me.

It was about 1:30 a.m., and the police would pick me up for curfew if I was spotted. I thought I would head along the train tracks and under a highway bridge about a half of a mile down, and head to my friend Ray's house. His mom would be cool with me staying, I thought. She was dating the lead singer from Survivor at the time.

On my way down the driveway, I punched our metal mail box as hard as I could, and dented the shit out of it. My mom told my brother some time later that the mail truck hit it, but even my brother knew it was me who did it.

Of course, after making it about half a mile, I turned around and came back. We ironed things out eventually.

Now, being older and having responsibilities heaped on me, I wonder what it would be like to just jump ship? I get these fantasies so often nowadays. God, I wish I had the balls to act on them sometimes. "It's so selfish and cowardly," I think to myself. I would'nt be there for my grandma as she lays dying, I wouldn't be there for my girlfriend, who I love. I wouldn't be there for my parents, who would spend hours a day probably blaming themselves for my inability to cope. If I ever returned, I would be handled with kid gloves at family gatherings.

I don't want that. I don't want to hurt people I care about. But what about me? At what point do you start taking care of what you want over those around you? Do you cope for the sake of others? Do you fail at coping for the sake of others?

I would go to New Orleans. I love that city. If you look on Craigslist, there are so many labor jobs you can pick up down there right now. Build homes. Roofing, concrete, carpentry. Make a decent living and get things sorted out in my head. Figure out priorities. Maybe it sounds stupid. The other day, on the train home from school, I thought about it for a solid half hour. Before I knew it I was home. The fantasy was so palpable, so vivid, I took myself there for those 30 minutes.

If things got really bad, I think I would do it. Things being as they are, I'm not that far away.

If nothing else, what a great story it would make.