I don't even know why I bother making plans if they're going to be ruined. I hate living at the mercy of others. I don't feel like myself. Or at least, a version of myself I should be.
In the last few months I've been given an ultimatum: stay where I'm at for the rest of my life, or leave and face permanent exile. Neither one is appealing because of the unknowns: But I'm running out of time to discover the unknowns. I have about 6 more months before I need to make a decision.
The city near me is crawling with bugs, and I don't just mean the insects. There's drug addicts and hobos in the inner city, and thugs sprinkled everywhere else. It's kind of a mess unless you live in the good parts.
The town I live in is a dead end. No industry, no hope, and not even the splendor of nature can save it anymore.
Do I sacrifice a life of danger and potentially-filled ambition for one of dull, strained and listless comfort? Or do I risk everything including my life and my work in the hopes that I can come out more prosperous in the end?
All I feel like I know how to do is sit and complain. I am a manager who can't afford to live in the very city he works in. Not very fitting, really. No, it's downright embarassing.
Part of me feels like I'm being led down a road of dirty tricks. I see people lie, cheat and steal their way to a comfortable living. Do I really have to follow such a path in order to relieve myself of all the burdens of my current living situation? I try to work as honest as I can, and look where that's getting me. Even now, my hands as sullied as they have become, I don't feel like I've made much progress.
Isn't life supposed to be about the mysteries? What if that mystery is "how many bedbugs are going to crawl on me tonight?" or "Will I get held at gunpoint for the first time?" Very equally, those mysteries could be "How long until I fall asleep at the wheel and cross the line?" or "Will I become like that ambitionless tub of waste living next door, feeding off the wealth of those who died decades ago?"
God, this is depressing.
I know what I need to do to start having a chance at getting out of here, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I've always procrastinated, but this is an existential procrastination. Waiting until the wee hours of the night to decide what I want to do with myself, trying to make game plans, and so on.
Unknowns on top of unknowns. I slave away for a rental deposit, the place is full of bugs, what then? I can't afford another deposit. I don't know anybody and I'm not fun to live with.
The right place at the right time? I can't compete.
Saddled with burdens I cannot shed.
Do I choose to keep living in this dull comfort, or do I subject myself to intense distress and hope that I can somehow come out of it a better person?
I've taken a little time to look things over.
August would be the soonest I can do anything. I suppose that's the REAL agonizing part. I can do nothing but sit and wait until then. After that point I should be crossing a significant milestone.
I know in my heart what the answer is. I know there is no home for me here. All I can do is prepare myself.
I just want things to be a little easier. I just want a home.