After eleven years, there are things to be said for sobriety.
It helps keep things in focus. The edges of things gain clarity; you leave doubts for another day. It also magnifies things for you.
For those who are already teetering on the edge, it is a perilous perch. Do we step into the void of newness—who knows what we may find?—or do we hug the safety and comfort of the commonplace?
I find that my views of this world is not exactly as I had remembered it; it is too painful to see yourself whenever you analyze your own doings. Selfish manipulations are hardly the stuff of heroes, one could say. We try to make ourselves a better person but we still cling to old, destructive habits. We shroud our psyche with clothings of familiarity, until one day that same raiment that used to accord us some semblance of comfort—and it does feel good in our comfort zones!—begin to stink.
Thank goodness for singlehood: I have no witness to my self-loathing.
