I hide within my journal. I disguise myself with my images. I go deep within my imagination and try to disappear there. It seldom lasts though. A call, an issue, or a problem presents itself just as I almost disappear completely. I wish I could. I wish I could just walk into one of my pieces and become a part of it. I could become the blue sky and float away or I could turn into one of the textured rocks and meld with it. Maybe I could become a paper doll and have a whole new personality. Perhaps I could simply be the letter E on the page and be multiplied enough times to not even be seen anymore. I would like to find a new life in a simple wash of cerulean and opera on a smooth piece of watercolor paper. A drizzle of cadmium yellow running down the piece of paper and becoming a sunshiny flower, would be perfection. A new piece of busy, collage would be a wonderful place to conceal my true identity. A thesaurus page of synonyms for joy or a dictionary page of peaceful terms could sincerely send me away into euphoria. This would be my escape. This would be my saving grace. This would be my idea of new life.
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