I’m escaping. The silence has become unbearable. I have lots of ideas why I’m escaping. I have many plausible theories that might be sufficient for a psychologist or the impartial Observer of all human affairs as to why.
I know what I’m doing. Know it but can’t control it. I know how to analyse escapism while seeming rationale and calm. It’s just (what an innocuous word ‘just’) that this time I don’t care to stay in control so much.