It's complicated.

I hate that word. Complicated. 


It's only as complicated as you make it. And yet, sometimes it isn't. 
I want it but I don't. I would leave it all and yet I know I probably shouldn't. 
I can't think straight lately and I'm not sure I even want to. 
I think a lot but it's all nonsense. I want some inspiring nonsense to come out of it, but it doesn't. Does my mind have a conspiracy against my essence?


It's like that dream you had last night: you remember you had it, you know the ideas in it where very clear, how could you not have seen it before? and yet now, you can't quite grasp what it was, not even the concept, you think you can remember it for a moment, but before you do, it's gone again. 


The only thing that allows me to sleep, is the certainty that I never regret my decisions. They don't lead to right or wrong paths, they lead to different adventures. 
The only thing that haunts my dreams, is the fear of a dead end, of getting stuck, of drowning in my own dreams, of suffocating in a closed labyrinth, of repeating myself endlessly. 


That's it, that's my phobia: Repeating myself endlessly.


Raf