The Trap

I haven't made an entry in here in a week or so. The reason for this is that I wanted to wait until I found something cheerful to talk about, because my last article was so melancholic. But alas, the week has passed, and nothing good ever came out of it.

I so desperately wanted to retrieve the mood I was in when I wrote the Musical. But it is just not happening. I wake up every morning with the hope of hearing some good news, any good news, but none reaches my ears.

I am even asking if the plumber came and fixed the water problem, because if he did, that would be considered good news, although I don't live where the water is running and I never will.

Work sucks. I am not even officially working actually. I am taking petty jobs that I despise just for the money.
Money. Humanity's tormenter. I hate it. I love it. I have the same relationship with it as everybody else basically. I love it when I have it. I crave it when I don't, which leads me to hate it at those times. 

Now is one of those times.

Now is one of those times when I wake up in the morning craving a purpose, lusting for something to do, for people to meet, for conflicts to arise in my life, for challenges to step up to.

Now is one of those times when I simply can't understand what is happening and can't figure out what is about to happen either.

Now is one of those times when anything could go either way; I can make a mountain of grieves over nothing, and I can also look the other way over serious stuff.

Now is one of those times when I feel useless, when I feel powerless, but when I feel beautiful.

Beautiful because now I have all the time in the world to make myself beautiful. Because I wake up to no schedule, no perspectives, no special people, no specific plans, no nothing. Because make up seems a good activity when you have stopped eating, stopped reading and stopped thinking.

Thinking creeps up on me in the evenings though, and it doesn't leave me alone until I have surrendered to the ugly dreams I am having.

I miss the time when I used to dream of random stuff. All I have been dreaming about lately - and that is a considerable while - are cats, mice and yes, cockroaches.

I am being haunted in my sleep.

I am being haunted by being so careless about my cat. I am neglecting her, and it is torturing me in my sleep.

I am being haunted by cockroaches because I hate their guts. They disgust me to the core.

I am not sure what the mice are about though.

I could truly use a change of scene. I am so bored in here. I so deeply wish I could wake up somewhere where I can see new faces, unknown people. I so desperately wish to overhear a conversation and not be able to grasp a word of it.

I am so sick of people in here, of their dull faces and their meaningless stories.

Maybe people everywhere are like that, true, but, at least they will sound, look and feel new and fresh for a while at least. That would be a very welcome change.

I need to be away for a while in order for me to be able to handle the fact of simply seeing, let alone talking or interacting with the people around me.

In hope that the next entry would be a little less grim, I bid you farewell.