You know, there's always a lot of talk from both the inside and the outside about how roleplayers are misunderstood and roleplaying is misinterpreted. Perhaps that's a product of having a hobby that is a minority. William Butler Yeats, however, would have understood us:
‘I think all happiness depends on having the energy to assume the mask of some other self, that all joyous or creative life is a rebirth as something not oneself, something created in a moment and perpetually renewed in playing a game like that of a child where one loses the infinite pain of self-realisation, a grotesque or solemn painted face put on that one may hide from the terrors of judgment, an imaginative Saturnalia that makes one forget reality. Perhaps all the sins and energies of the world are but the world’s flight from an infinite blinding beam’ (from Journal, 1909).**
**Yeats, W.B., ed. Richard J. Finneran. The Yeats Reader, Revised Edition. Scribner Poetry: 2002, pp.357-8.