Every little vacation, every weekend that I leave here and go there, every minute in that place -- it's like a model of the life that I could have. The life that I want.
In miniature scale, it seems so wonderful. But missing are the realities of money and a job, of disappointment and inconvenient surprises. Sometimes frustration peeks in to remind me that nothing can be perfect, but I don't worry so much about that. That's something I can get over, as I have many times before.
When I'm there, I feel like the child who has discovered a trunk of old clothes in the attic. I am playing dress-up. Soon the grown-ups will come home and end my game. Soon the happy illusion, the fantasy world I create, will vanish.
I'm not afraid of reality, but... But I don't know what.
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