Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now...

I've managed to largely avoid most of the conventional choices life offers in favor of less-travelled alternatives. It's not been due to special strength of character (though i'd argue this helps survive the inherent discomforts of such a path). Life has been consistent in handing me strange alleys to slip away from many dead ends.

So, feeling as lost as at present, i examine myself, my history, the art that resonates with me, and any manner of esoteric source, in search of enough general orientation on the map that i can at least hazard a guess for north.

The one consistent, screaming fact: for me, comfort may be necessary for happiness, but it's definitely not sufficient. Because it's all i have right now, and i'm miserable.

I have to get out of Drymouth.