guns

The art of faith.

So im thinking of moving to Thailand again. Starting off fresh again for the hundredth time. I guess we learn and grow but for some reason I feel this need to move again will be judged negatively by others as if I cant commit to one thing for a long period of time. I don’t understand it. Is it because my path leads else where and in my head I know this and constantly keep wanting to move. Or is it due to not being able to commit. My cant I commit. Is there something wrong with my personality or is it that I’ve never been truly comfortable with what i do.

Now this may sound silly but im so excited to move and be free, make my own choices again! Its something I cant contain and I am struggling to wait.

Now there is a catch as always. If I move I may not be successfully, ill try damn hard but what if? Or i can be successful. But if I stay with the Job I have whos to say it wont get better, security with this job. I know my pay check. I know it might increase over time. Starting your own project you have no idea the out comes. What if I fail. And come home and start at square one all over again. What if my lover leaves me because of this. What if her family dislikes me.

Truth is I am a creative soul and there is no way around it. I love creating. Whether its art, or website, or small businesses! I love coming up with ideas! Most of them so far have failed and I guess that’s okay in a sense. I just need that one chance of success. And im fucking frightened I don’t find it.

What If the gun jams?

Staring at the ceiling.

I have been waiting for this day, sitting riddled in anxiety to the point my brain feels numb and communication is something of the past. It is funny how my past experiences of situations have always seemed worse then they really are. Like have you ever had to hide a dead body? Im sure the mere thought of actually doing it would scare you half to death, the blood, cleaning up all the evidence and then deciding how you will live with it for the rest of your life. Well there is no dead body. Or any evidence of such a thing, but I have been lying in bed for the last 4 days frightened out of my mind. Diving into my writing, I guess trying to come up with any reason to prove to myself that I was correct and they were wrong. As any sane human does. Justifying from each olive branch I pass in my mind how unfair things are. We all do this, some better then others. And at the end of the day I will sit there in silence reply yes and no to all statements and hope I get out of it alive. That is if they will allow it to be that simple.

No on second thought, lets imagine they do not let me off that easy. I guess that’s how pigs at slaughtering houses feel. They get let out this tiny cage, they have been cooped up in for about 6 months, seen nothing of the outside world and just when they begin to smell freedom, the truck pulls up to the slaughterhouse. And this is the very thing im frightened of, not know what’s around the corner. Now I’ve never been to good at arguments or heated meetings as my brain and memory turn off during times of stress, like genuinely what worse time can there possibly be.

Imagine its world war 2, you are a tank operator driving down a narrow road in the bush, when suddenly you get ambushed with your twenty men, bullets flying, blood everywhere. You climb down to the guns cockpit aim your giant two ton gun at the enemy, you are locked on ready to pull that trigger. And when you do the gun jams.

Well story of my life and instead of ammo it is things I cannot remember in stressful situations. So in all actual fact I do hope this meeting goes smooth or at least my gun doesn’t jam. But If it does, I have plenty of armour, and a sweet face. I do hope I get out this one alive.

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