“The best way to escape reality is through maladaptive daydreaming,” they said, and I agreed.
You know, there’s this girl—let’s call her me—who lived in her dreams more than in the real world.
In my own little world, I am safe. I don’t have to face the harsh judgments or the painful realities of my life.
Here, I can express myself freely, without fear of rejection or misunderstanding. It’s a place where my emotions are valid, my thoughts are valued, and my dreams are real.
Maladaptive daydreaming isn’t just a hobby for me; it’s my lifeline.
I found peace and freedom. I create intricate scenarios where I am in control, and the chaos of the real world can’t touch me.
I daydream about a life that feels out of reach. I imagined moments of joy and success, of love and acceptance, things I wish were real but often feel are unattainable. But, these dreams give me hope.
I’m free to be anyone I want, to do anything without the weight of reality dragging me down.
But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. See, these dreams—they’re both my escape and my trap.
This sanctuary is also my prison.
My constant need to escape means I am not truly living in the present. I feel detached from reality.
They help me cope, sure, but they also leave me torn. When I’m lost in my fantasies, reality feels like a distant echo. It’s like I’m floating, detached from what’s actually happening around me. Sometimes, it’s lonely out here in my head.
‘Why can’t I stay here forever?’ I often wondered.
This is where I found comfort, where my mind weaves a tapestry of hope and joy.
The pull of my dreams is strong because here, in my mind, I’m safe. I can create worlds where pain doesn’t exist, where everything makes sense. But then reality tugs at me, demanding attention like an impatient child.
And again, I found myself slipping away into my dreams. It’s my safe haven, where I can weave stories that give me comfort.
I imagined scenarios where endings are happy and problems dissolve like mist in the morning sun.
‘Who am I in my dreams?’ I asked myself. It’s a question that dances just out of reach, like trying to catch a firefly in the dark.
In my dreams, I’m stronger than I feel in reality. I’m loved, understood—things that sometimes seem out of reach when I face the world outside my mind.
There are others, I’m sure, who found solace in their own worlds of imagination. Each dream is a thread in a tapestry of shared longing, a silent plea for understanding amidst the chaos of life.
And, Reality nudges me gently, reminding me of responsibilities and challenges waiting outside my cozy bubble of dreams.
So, I continue this dance between dreams and reality, holding onto hope and whispered wishes.
You know, there’s this girl—who lives in her dreams more than in the real world.
And that’s me. She is me. The girl who lives in her dreams. I am more comfortable in my own world, a place that helps me cope and escape from the struggles of everyday life. It’s a coping mechanism, a way to deal with feelings and scenarios that are too painful to face head-on.
It’s a way to express myself, to explore my thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. It’s my safe space.
Daydreaming is like, stepping into the realm of fantasies.
A place where everything that i wanted could become reality.
It’s a temporary escape from the real world.
Everything is perfect, but it hurts me knowing that it’s all just a dream.
Daydreaming helps me feel, what I won’t experience in my real life.
It’s a place where nothing can harm me.
A place where everything that I desire, does actually exist.
A place where I know.
I am loved.
