I am so fucking antsy. In the past I have always sought the geographical cure - pack a backpack, leave town, pack a backpack, leave town. There is too much now, for me to leave, I can't leave.
Being stable isn't something that I am good at. I have adjusted to it, to the point where I don't resemble myself. I am a schitzo. There is nothing on the outside that matches the inside anymore.
There is no closure, no reconciliation, no serenity. I am at odds with myself. How did I get myself here? Maybe I can go. It will take six months to wrap things up, make it through winter.
That has never worked before, why would it cure me this time?...33. I've got 33 more till 66, I need to have it figured out by then.
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