Beds

It would seem, to me. That time teaches me few lessons, but time itself is the best thing to do anything with. As I dragged my protesting carcass from the bed this evening I had one of those inspirational moments. I can’t say much about it, as its message was wasted on me. It did however compel me to understand that, something has got to change. I’ve said this before, and in this very journal too. Maybe it’s just the realisation that for reasons A B or C, I’m not happy.

Something in me tells me I’m not happy and despite my fruitless search for answers, I know about the relativity of all humans to their world; things always can be better. Maybe I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing… but anyway. I'm going to make a list of things I would like to change, and see how I get on with it in the new year.

We have found a four bed roomed house about 5 minutes walk closer to university, on H_____ road. Right above a Jewellers shop I think (good security then). We are putting down the deposit on it tomorrow. I’ll go to spend more money than I have and more than the last of it, the same thing in two different ways. I need a job; I need a fucking job now.

Beds are cradles, beds are graves,

Beds are where we long to stay,

Beds are carriages to and from,

The world inside and one beyond.