“Make not your thoughts your prison” – Antony and Cleopatra
I thought I was free. I was fooling myself. The small clarity I had gained merely allowed me to see the nature of the dungeon I am trapped in with greater ease. My attempt to escape led, as always, to being once more imprisoned in my thoughts, to be ever more shackled to this misery.
Darting around once more in circles, every point blocked. Each dead-end shooting me on to the next, ever quicker, whirring around and around. Eventually I come to a cycle when I can see a way step off this brutal treadmill. Please no, not back in that room.
I designed and curate a dungeon of my own, deep down in the worse corner of my infected head. It is a loathsome place, small but magnificent. All the hatred and disappointments and anger get garnered and carefully placed there. It should be a healthy, cleansing and cathartic exercise. It is not. The inhabitant knows not of its existence, nor of their place in it. But it is here with me, constantly. Part of what keeps me in the prison of my thoughts. Stuck.