At the end. Not really. There is no terminus.
We’re at the end of this line and it’s time to change tracks. Not sure if I’m going by train or plain or bus, on foot strolling or if I’m just going to stand here a while.
The funny stuff doesn’t end here. Some of it still continues. But, there’s this:
Last week someone I don’t know said something that changed everything.
Truly. Everything.
The technical base of this pre-recorded shared philosophy branches out beyond where we normally go.
Merriam-Webster: Addiction 2: a strong inclination to do, use, or indulge in something repeatedly.
The point of the moment was that addiction isn’t limited to drugs or alcohol. Food, gambling, smoking, shopping, sex, video games, internet, social media.
The scrambler? “You can be addicted to sadness.”
Well, then.
I’ve felt this way for so long; too long, I admit.
And while it’s comfortable here, cocooned and non-expanding, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.
It’s been way longer than you think; then you know, too.
I’ve been writing pain since, always. I remember sharing a piece I was particularly pre-teen proud of, brought up short by the question: Does everything you write have to be so dark?
Of course, I’ve changed. I write about life: the known, unknown, bad, ugly, cliché.
I didn’t write for a few years. Guess which ones those were? Yep, that short little span of Jeff years.
I don’t think I’m incapable of happy prose. I’d like to think I was just too busy living happy.
Maybe. I don’t know. I just didn’t write. Much. I’ve found a few notes which are entirely inexplicable….
So, the shock of that. That word. Addiction.
I’ve wrapped my head around it, and yeah, I am completely sure. It is what I never considered it could be or would be or was or is.
I’m not nearly in the same spiritual place as when I was misunderstood 14 years ago.
I’m further away now then when I wasn’t at all.
I’m not sure how I’m gonna do this/how long its gonna take.
But, I’m kinda happy with my decision. And that feels … new.
Quote for the Week:
song list for this sort of thing: talking to myself, talking to the sadness.
Billie Eilish IDon’tWannaBeYouAnymore
Snow Patrol This Isn’t Everything You Are
knabble 