I sit, unsure of the world around me. Where do I go, what do I
I canít seem to be able to just put a finger on how to wake myself
from this trance. I feel dead too lethargic to do much but move
around my room. Even the kitchenís too far away for me to want to
go there, itís cold to. Everywhere is cold. Iím warm for now, I
should be able to move, to work, to play even. Instead I just sit
here, no inclination to work, to guilty to play when I should be
working. Later Iíll be too tired to go to bed and yet Iíve done
nothing. What is it that makes me this way?
Those who I live with see me, but no-one else. Itís as though I
lock myself in my room to get away from wasteful temptation and
then do even less than I would if I let temptation in. Do I thrive
off temptation? Or am I just a useless hulk, without brains? Has
my actions on the only days I allow myself to succumb to temptation
Is my ageing brain effecting me that badly? If so why do I feel
so annoyed? Is it because there are things I know I should do, could
do, want to do even? Is an adult (a word I am both ashamed and loathed
to give myself) just a child streamlined so that all that could
be done has been replaced by that which has to be done, the gaps
empty, useless rather than full of learning, doing, being human?
Or am I just lazy as my mother says?
Development is Futile
The above text is copyrighted to James A. Branthwaite (13/10/97)