Fiction is exaggerated fact

It might be a sign that I'm going slowly insane, but it feels like I'm more alive when I'm writing than when I'm living. Is it possible that one can live vicariously through their prose?

I mean, doesn't everyone fantasize about what the world would be like under their terms? Under different circumstances? And so what if those factors are based in the realm of the surreal?

Sometimes, when I'm riding on the bus, I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like if the bus suddenly stopped, the driver got out, only to get tackled by a re-animated corpse, blood spraying from a broken jugular. Is that so wrong? I mean, c'mon. It's not just me, is it? Zombies are interesting.