Hiding things has always been difficult for me. Not keeping secrets but personal things. I managed to keep a few things sacred but eventually they all came out. For a period of about a month I had no secrets and now I have developed a new secret and its eating me up. It shouldn’t be, it seems the logical conclusion to the problem, to bury it, to hide it. Not because its nasty or going to crawl out and eat me but because it makes so little sense to me and it’ll make so little sense to anyone I tell it to that I cant possibly expect good advice.
What is advice anyway? Its only someone else’s opinion. Those are not golden and are often marred by experience, Clarity is what we look for with advice. I want to hear one sentence that will turn my world around and make me not feel this way, so that I recognise the reasons behind it and no longer feel the need, to tell someone else to look for the same clarity. It’s a fools journey.
I want to surround myself in material possessions because that is what I’m told happiness is sometimes. But then again “true” love is said to be happiness. But what is love but an instinctual need to reproduce. In those terms what am I looking for at all?
I want comfort. Just constant comfort. Even if life is hard I want to be able to come back to something comforting, that brightens my eyes and lightens up my day. I believe I found a path to that but I’ve done so before. Twice I’ve chased that comfort and twice I’ve ended up dragging myself out of it, finding out that the thing I was chasing could not find comfort in me.