Sorry but I'm thinking out loud here. Stuff usually reserved for the private contents of my own mind or my own journals which pile higher and higher with passing years. Just trying to figure this irrationality out. I look at it and it makes no bloody sense at all. Yet seeing it for what it is doesn't change anything at all. So I keep asking myself why that is. Why? Around and around like a spin cycle. The more I discect, pull apart, examine and scribble away the more this inner frustration at my self builds to the point where I am internally bouncing about like a jumping bean.
Its this flat, our home. Put simply: I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate the fact is subsiding. I hate the damp patches that have appeared. I hate that the windows are crumbling and need replaced. I hate the lack of space. I hate not having my own room. I hate that we have people below us and to the side of us. I hate that we don't have a garden. I hate what surrounds it. Yes I hate it. So why not move? That is the most infuriating thing of all. Not only can I not move but I can't get a break from it because the second I leave I have this desire to get back here which is so overpowering that I have not been out of it for more than 3 hours in about four and a half years while have not stayed overnight outside of it for slightly longer. It has become a tomb of sorts and if defies reason why. There are plenty of places I would rather be even near at hand. In fact anywhere but here. Yet when I get there I am pulled back to this place constantly. That just doesn't make sense even to me yet this is what keeps happening. So do I have a choice? If I cannot grant my own will, my own desire, then is the choice really my own?
"people, places and events are panic-provoking only after we apply meaning to them."
R.Reid Wilson "Don't Panic"
I haven't read that book so don't know if its good, bad or indifferent but I do believe that is true. Well sort of. You see I don't apply meaning to any entity in particular. Anything that is not my shitty little home is a problem, when I am out the door it is a problem. Home is my escape from all those problems and when people invade my home I have nowhere to escape to so then its a BIG problem. Still though it is correct. Ignoring specifics it is my own applied meaning that is actually the problem where there is no problem in reality.
So what is it? This inner conflict is a compulsion to run away from here only to find myself outside with the compulsion to run back and so on. Irrational but that is how it is.
