Thank you for continuing to tell me hive cares!
Over three years now and I'm still fussing about writing. Maybe I spent too much time reading books growing up and anything I might want to say I compare to the greatest writers of the world. And now I compare it to your writing and others here lol. I'm a good image maker. I might be a good writer if I wasn't so angry at my circumstances. Circumstances I created. My thoughts move too quickly to write. I lose interest in it quickly. Going off on tangents and then trying to bring all back together just makes my head hurt.
I do need to move. I have no money or resources to do it. This little circle of hell is hard for me to deal with. I posted those little houses imagining "could I be happy there? Happier? Yes. Would all my internal shite disappear? No. There's this level of "Ok" lets get the most basic shit taken care of then go from there. Am I making sense? Slight pause... I stopped typing and tried for moment to figure out how to get out of here. Couldn't do it.
There's an enormous list of things that are gone from my life. I can't play guitar here. I have no garden or yard. I cut off all the friends who went off on the conspiracy crazy train. My two closest friends in fact. Two others killed themselves. Ohhh... where am I going with this. Building a case of why and how I'm an idiot and why and how it can't change. Brilliant eh?
On a fantasy level I would like to travel. I don't even have a valid passport and currently cannot afford one. I want to see Australia. Especially the southern areas on the east and west coasts. I don't think I want to go to Darwin and get eaten by crocs or stung by cube jellyfish haha. Tropical heat is pretty rough on me. I remember seeing photos of Wayne Lynch over 50 years ago surfing in your area... or maybe not too far from it. Should have gone then. I want to see the Indian Ocean off of Margaret River. La la la lalala... My eyes are acting up on me now.