I’ve just realized something.

Something, yes.  Oh, I think I’ve known for quite some time.  Others must also know, surely.  I can’t possibly be the only one to come to such a dire conclusion.  In truth, I’ve wanted to explain my musings for so long, but the thoughts felt too fantastic, too heartbreaking to speak aloud.  But I believe I’ve quieted them for too long.

Now I must utter this deduction.

I live in a world trapped within itself.

Ah yes, of course, maybe I should explain a little.

I know of other worlds.  Many people know of them, too.  But they are out of reach.  No one can go to the other worlds, not even if they wanted to.  You see!  We’re all trapped, I tell you!

The people of my world are the ones that create these worlds.  They spend many years fine tuning this skill, this power.  These people are world builders.  But what a cruel thing to do – they make desirable lands, then say that you can’t possibly go there!

Why? I often ask.  And they always reply with: Because those worlds aren’t real.

What a terrible trick.

Oh the irony of it all! Here I am attempting to trap people in the same manner.  You see, I am a writer; the kind of person who creates worlds then puts up “No Trespassing” signs.

If only the worlds I conjure could be actual, touchable places.  But they are not.  Only my imagination can taste, smell, and feel the place where my body longs to be.

Again, I say, we’re trapped.  We are stuck in a cage called Earth.  This thought creeps into my mind every day, urging my subconscious to come up with an escape.  Find a getaway, yes.

It is only when I pick up a book that I feel like I am a part of a different, better world – but as soon as I set it down, I am trapped once more.  So I keep reading.  And thinking – oh yes, thinking and imagining for as long as I can.

I write too, but there are moments when anxieties fill my fingertips as they hover above idle keys.  How could I possibly make a world so pleasing, so perfect, and so unique that it would make one’s heart and body desire to exist there?  Truly, is it doable?

Of course!  It has been done!  I know of many worlds I would like to be in.  Those writers succeeded!  They did it!  Surely, I can as well.

But it is still such an awful trick — if only people didn’t have to be fooled in order to escape.  Or is it perhaps better that way?

Go write.  Yes, put those words of imaginative vibrance on that lonely page.  Create characters.  Build worlds.

Oh, indeed, there is the chance that maybe you will feel more trapped once you believe the world could be real, and you understand that it really isn’t. You’ve only tricked yourself and lost your grip on a horrible reality.

But there is also another chance – a tiny, so very miniscule, slight chance – that you will maybe – just perhaps – feel a little less trapped than before.