Dark House

I can only speak for myself when I say that the desire to produce anything personal, at this point stems from the utter frustration of maintaining a life that prioritizes other people's priorities.  Nothing feels like it's for myself. I spend my days picking-up the crumbs of a life in regression and hope it amounts to something meaningful.  I'm not sure that even makes sense but you know what? NOTHING MAKES SENSE!

Can you feel my rage?!  I am angry!!!  I am angry that every single day I spend an absorbent amount of time cleaning-up after my dad, understanding his insurance, watching his "shows", paying his bills, and running his errands.  These things are not for me!  Just like your office job is likely not for you.  But the grudge here is that you get to go home after your crappy day to a house that you keep for you, upholding your lifestyle, consuming your preference in media, enjoying your version of downtime...  Well, there is no down time here.  Not in the way that bodes well for sanity.  The stress fractures are everywhere and the cracks are slowly giving way...