Escapism.

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝘀𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

So many go through many different versions of hell out there.

It's not evil, it's what makes you human. Makes you, you.

But what if, you stop trying to escape this hell? What if you make it your stage to perform? To thrive?

To make the flames bow down to you?

Escapism is an art. And how you plan on expressing yourself through that art, depends on you.

She's not a damsel in distress. Never was, never will.

She just looks too innocent to seem cruel. But let looks not deceive you.

She's ruthless, cunning and sly. A living embodiment of the phrase "beauty with brains."

She's a vixen.

He thrived in solitude- or so he thought.

He didn't need someone who'd be the water to his fire. No.

He needed someone who was the spark to his fire, someone who'd burn, not because of him, but with him.

Beside him.

Be the fire that ignites the flame.

What if they don't need to escape their lives?

What if they only need to find their escape in each other?

Escapism.