From: Les-Be-Friends on Sep 18 16, 04:13 (edited: Sep 18 16, 04:14)
What happens when your inner and outer worlds are out of sync? What does it mean to have the soul of a poet, but not the talent? To travel the world in your heart, as you while away the hours, days (years?) on a couch or at a desk? To want to reinvent yourself, when your entire life depends on holding steady where you are?
I find myself wandering away from the life I've made. Driving to the store or walking to work, I quietly build dozens of other lives in my head. In many, I am alone. There is a glorious freedom in solitude that I relish, and often I hunger for more. Not because I don't adore my wife or because I don't treasure moments shared with loved ones. I do, and will always. But even the bonds we cherish bind us; your life part of someone else's life, theirs yours, and every move you make has the weight of consequence behind it.
Being alone gives you a different kind of power. You are free to make choices unfettered, free to move untethered. You speak and act more authentically, because there are no side effects to being your most true self at all times. Who will object to your more absurd ideas? Whose feelings will be hurt by the callous thoughts or crude jokes that occasionally cross your mind?
And so what if you apply for a janitorial job at the Antarctic station, just so maybe you can live at the bottom of the world for a few months? What if you want to move into one room of a house with six strangers, because the house happens to be in some amazing city that you can only afford to enjoy if you're paying less than $200 a month? What if you want to get another degree or take up archery? What if you decide it's time you got a goat?
There are things that are only possible when no other voice has to say yes but your own, and there are so many futures I want to say yes to.
There are simply too many lives out there waiting to be lived...including the one I currently dream of escaping. This one, like all the others, is itself probably a fantasy of some other version of me...some other self who would long for the comforts of quiet couplehood.
Will I ever be satisfied, I wonder.