Mental diarrhea, frustration and escapism

Has this world got you frustrated to an extent, that you lose interest in living? Have you ever got so discontented with your life, that you lose belief in yourself? Is it always money that keeps your pace parallel with the outward world? Ask yourself these questions and things will get cleared up, things that are hampering your day to day life will be in the limelight.
I do not claim to be an astrologer, I am just putting it here that if your answer to the above questions intersects mine in some degree; then you must be thrown into the lot with me.
We bring a purpose with us to this world, that purpose is seen differently from different religious perspectives; but whatever the purpose we make it to a common end "Death." 7 billion people, can not be in the same state of misery nor can they be in the same state of luxury, it is the selection of nature. One dare not to gauge other's happiness in terms of money, money cannot buy you happiness; it is old enough and too boring to hear but it's true. Have you ever looked at the rich through the prism of social anxiety? Of course not because all we could see is their ostentation. They look good; they wear great; they smell amazing and they care less. To dissect the life of a billionaire brings forth some facts which cannot be pushed aside, they cannot sleep at night; they have less time to spend with their family and this almost always is the root of the ignition of severe crises in the families of rich. In an air, so profound in materialism, it becomes hard to undertake matters pertain to the family. In contrast, what has the poor got to lose if they aren't making billions; they certainly got to gain family's love and affection which is of prime importance in a world ridden with rat race, depression and anxiety.
Yet again, there are individuals devoid of all this; they wake up; they eat, and they sleep again, and this frustration keeps building up in the form of negative energy and woe betide them when this negative energy turns into positive energy. There are genres, when dealing with subjects of this condition; some of them commit suicide some go mad trying to find peace in drugs and some take shelter in "Escapism,"
The "Escapism" is a phenomenon wherein individuals flee the reality. What do they flee from? The reality? Alas! It isn't so easy as it looks, they might at some point manage to escape from their being; but they can't escape the reality. No matter how far you run, how deep you dig to seek refuge; reality will get you gravitated towards itself.

I was to turn twenty that September, that I made a promise to myself that I am to fulfill the dream of that being begging me to experience "physical escapism" inside me. I fell very small even to the idea of "escapism," given my age; it was an age of nascence of adulthood, I had known the art of questioning; I had learned that there was something on the other side of childhood—sex and I could feel my hormones rushing across my body causing me to experience ripples at times.
Looking for money in my drawers I came across certain things which would have kept me at home, but I, brimming with the idea of living off the grid for the rest of my life could not be deterred by anything; I would trample on anything trying to back stab me in the endeavor that I was about to undertake.
It was a fine afternoon in December, I got my stuff packed stuff that I would need in the days coming forth: including food supplies for at least 5 days, a sleeping fold able mattress, a small jerrycan which I would use for some reasons other than drinking I already had a bottle for that, a tent and a dagger which was of paramount importance. I walked through the bustling streets with my backpack and I was the center of people's attention because normally it wouldn't happen as beyond that point the streets opened into irrigated fields, you wouldn't find people carrying things other than spades and other farming tools.
Next, I walked and walked and walked answering questions in my head every time I would console myself with the idea that I am going to make it to the riverside and most probably I will find people there and I would try to learn from them what they think of the life given my frustration which was at the peak those days. I now have struggled with my bulky backpack for some 10 kilometers that I got distracted from my path, a pack of dogs looked like that were just waiting for me and I had just reached in time to face their anger. I felt them growling at me and in no time that growl turned into a dreadful bark and they rushed towards me with a ferocity that can be only be equated to a heat-seeking stinger shot at an aircraft flying at a very low altitude. I felt my heart thudding, gravity sucking blood from my legs and hands unwilling to make any move, before I tried to process the situation, I heard a shooing voice and then I realized that was me. Now I was soldiering my way across them and they seemed unwilling to let me go. One of them tried to mount my backpack and I felt a jerk and with that I realized they have probably no plan of letting you go.
There were some stones littered on that path I took two fast steps to reach those stones and as I bent down I saw they backing off, I raised myself again and they recoiled and I hurled one of the stones that I had picked and it hit one of the dogs right on the backbone. He ran with all the speed he could command uttering a whine, that I could hardly forget and forgive myself for. At the time I thought I shouldn't have hit him so hard but then I realized I had no choice. Now all the dogs sensed some danger and I felt I must have got them angered before they re attacked me and before I charged another stone, this time a pointed one, there appeared a man in a cart he tried to shoo them with a rope but they forced him to hurled his spade against them. The spade somersaulting in the air, hit the ground making a jingling voice and out of nowhere appeared a bull terrier; he rushed at one of them clawing him before growling followed by a quick claw again and he was upon him sticking his teeth in his neck and dragging him like a pillow, the owner of the dog was the one riding the cart. At the sight of the bull terrier the dogs ran barking at their backs but never bothering themselves to save their pack mate. It turned out that I knew that man he was a local shopkeeper and had come to water his field in which he had grown potatoes………………………….