It is with no small amount of trepidation that I've returned home. 'Home', being a relative term. This is where I sleep, where I keep my belongings, and this is indeed the address for which I am paying money to reside. Yet, Home? I'm not so sure.

Strictly speaking, the word fits, within the realm of its usual definition. Home: (hōm) - A place where one lives, a residence. But what about the other definitions? What about 'A valued place regarded as a refuge', what about that indeed. That, to me, implies some sort of positive emotional attachment. In other words, something I completely lack.

Its not even a bad place really. Nothing special, not bad, just average. That's not the problem. I have roommates, and we're completely different types of people. I wouldn't say the partnership has worked out at all as hoped. Its unfortunate, but I'm not even sure that's the whole problem.

What is it then? Why do I feel so uncomfortable here? Why does it feel like the walls are moving in and why the hell is my breathing so constricted?

I'm not happy here. No doubt in part due to the fact that I'm not happy with myself. It probably doesn't take a lot of detective work to figure that one out.

Scattered, unfocused. That about sums it up. Its been like that for longer than I care to admit, but its becoming harder to pretend otherwise. Everyone keeps reminding me that my life should have some sort of focus by now. I can't go on being a nothing forever. I need to find some sort of business entity to attach myself to so I can become a nothing within their corporate structure.

Ok, I digress. That was over the top. That's wasn't even a 'glass is half full' attitude, it was a 'that glass is fucking empty' attitude. I have a tendency to envision a negative spin on things, with the excuse that that way I'm never disappointed. Sometimes it goes too far. My bad.

Anyway. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that for whatever reason I'm struggling. But the problem is ironic in that I want to do so much that I end up doing nothing. It's absolutely absurd! I don't want to be the nothing that everyone seems to think I'm becoming. I want to write, I want to do photography, I want to work my ass off in the gym 5 hours a day, I want to fiddle around with computers and electronics, I want to do all these things and much more. And let me tell you its a pain in the ass trying to figure out where I stand with any one of these various pursuits. The biggest roadblock: the nagging self-doubt. I don't think a domineering wife could possibly be as oppressive.

Its time to move forward. However long it takes. Swallow the pride. Take what I can get, do what I need to do. Believe, just for a second, that I can be more than a pale shade of the perfect self.

I'm writing again. I think that is worth noting. I have to admit I feel a lot better now. I doubt the 'quality' of writing was all that high. I sort of spewed the words out, so to speak. But it is something.

And something is better than nothing.