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I sit, unsure of the world around me. Where do I go, what do I do?

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 affected me?

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adult (a word I am both ashamed and loathed to give myself) just a child streamlined so that all that could be done has been replaced by that which has to be done, the gaps empty, useless rather than full of learning, doing, being human?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)

© 1997

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