Mortified again. Horrible despair. BUT I WANT THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS

Mortified again. Horrible despair. BUT I WANT THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS. I WANT TO BE ALONE IN COLD STOVELESS ROOMS. I LIVE TO LIVE WILDLY. I ALWAYS RISE LIKE THE PHOENIX FROM THE FLAMES.

mountains (2)

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Would be good if I could RESIST returning to Brussels until my end of year Vienna trip to enable me to save up a pot of money for that

Would be good if I could RESIST returning to Brussels until my end of year Vienna trip, to enable me to save up a pot of money for that, as that is a more expensive journey. My boredom in London can be relieved if I do take out storage space and use my days off to start moving my stuff into there. I do wonder if it was my anxiety to start this that stopped me from feeling in the mood for anything while in Brussels. And maybe even my craving to have my own little nest again; completely alone.

The story of my life has been:

The story of my life has been: if there is a kindergarten of 20 young children, and 19 of them are on the climbing frames playing and screaming and shouting like monkeys and 1 is sitting in the corner facing a wall repetitively putting the pieces in and out of the same puzzle, it is the one in the corner who is in the wrong, and it is the one in the corner who has to change to become like the others. The story of my life has been: No. I don’t see why I am the one who has to change. The story of my life has been: I think the world would be a better place if more people changed to become like me, rather than me change to become like them.

I could live like — in a nice little house in ——- but I cannot think of anything worse. Rather live in suspension

I could live like — in a nice little house in ——-, but I cannot think of anything worse. Rather live in suspension, always in hotels in Vienna looking down into the Gurtel with classical music playing in room behind me, in hotel in Berlin looking down into the Ku’damm, in Brussels looking down into the Adolphe Max, climbing mountains to snowy peaks, cold and alone.

My freedom or the woman I love: that is what my life came down to

My freedom, or the woman I love: that is what my life came down to, and at the end inevitably I will look back and see I threw away the woman I loved because I couldn’t give up my freedom.A lonely sad cold old man I will be, missing her for so many years till I eventually die alone and she won’t even know I am dead. But I couldn’t breathe, and I cannot live like that again. Not now, perhaps never.