I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head recently. Just hanging out. Not really doing anything of import. I wish I’d realized it sooner, because if I had I would have done something about it.

My head is not a very big place and developing claustrophobia is inevitable. But at the same time, my head is enormous. It wants more information, more knowledge, more points of reference. So there’s a bit of agoraphobia waiting for all my head-dwellers (there is no record of there being more than one…for now).

The problem is me being in my head does not require me:

  • to be alone
  • to be at home
  • to do nothing

I have perfected the art of head-dwelling. I’m capable to hang out in my head while attending a heavy metal concert. People do not bother me. I can even engage in a lively conversation with real people while being in my head.

And it sucks. Before I could discover a lot of interesting stuff there. Now all I’m surrounded is so mundane and “real”. It’s all work, money, obligations, facts, numbers… To do lists have replaced abstract thought and notions. My head has become lame (note that here I’m actually blatantly claiming that my head was once interesting and noteworthy).

I need to run away from the constraints of my immediate reality. The only thing that comes to mind is books. More books. Books, books, books.

The terrifying thought is that what I need is a new reality.


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