I, too, have fantasies of running away.
I went to Mexico over winter break. I came within minutes of simply not getting on the plane to come back. I had already started looking for jobs in the city I’d been visiting. A friend of mine had a key to my apartment; I could easily have asked him to sell off my stuff and send me most of the money (he could have the rest of it as a small payment for his help.) It took all my willpower to come back to school.
My pay is direct-deposited into my account each month. Every time I get paid, I consider my bank balance and think, “You know, I could sell everything today, withdraw all my cash, buy a one-way ticket to Brazil, be gone by this afternoon and never come back.”
At times, when I’m driving on errands, I find myself heading towards the airport. I think, “Hey–I could park my car in long-term parking, withdraw all my cash, take my unused credit card, and buy a one-way ticket to somewhere exotic and cheap. I could be gone in a few hours and never, ever, ever have to see my thesis, the abrasive lab tech, the frigid, sterile campus, or my psychotic landlord again.” I’ve gotten as far as driving by the airport exit. Somehow, I never quite get on the off-ramp.
After I graduate, though (and I will graduate, with or without a thesis. I’ve squandered too many good years of my life in the barren misery of my research for me to just back out now, tempting though it may be), I’m out of here. Gone, gone, gone. Preferably to somewhere with a warm climate, where I’ll have to sharpen my Spanish or Portuguese. I’ll consolidate my loans, find some way to not have to cough up tons of American currency each month to pay back the US Dept. of Education, and be out of here.