Brought to you by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome from holding myself hostage for so many years.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
I find that my emotions aren't helping me out much lately. There's got to be a switch inside where I can turn them off. You take a few days off from people and whammo, they feel hurt. Hermitsville or homelessness would suit me. I can't continue being inconsistent in my feelings, but it appears that I don't know how to change that right now. Honestly, if I could settle my psyche one way or another, I would. It would make my life a lot easier. The question of whether to advance or retreat becomes another question of how to avoid fracturing my being. Vulnerability takes a backseat to survival, especially when it involves the welfare of dependents. Why can't I just let my hair down and be free? Because, if I did there would be real consequences. That's how you know life has deemed you too old for dreams. Move over, Charlie, and let the young 'uns on by. I at least have this fascinating "relic of times past" role to play; to inspire the occasional starry-eyed dreamer, who just might make it to Xandadu. When you get there send me a postcard. Let me know if the milk of paradise is as good as I've heard.
I'll snap out of it. Ok?