I have to be careful. This is a fairly pivotal point in my life.

I'm in real danger, I think, of reverting back to how I was in my 30s. I wasted my 30s. I felt safe and secure and fucking content, but I wasted them. It wasn't until 2003 that things changed. That I changed.

These last several years might not have been safe, or secure, but I was never bored. And there were quite a few moments of genuine happiness in there, sprinkled atop the misery. And the hope, the hope was beyond awesome.

I miss the hope.

Amyway, this last week, for the first time in a very long time, I've felt safe. Except for the occasional bullshit which I hope will eventually taper off to nothing, I can live my life without fear.

Problem is, I don't think it's really living. Lack of fear is one thing. Lack of hope or ambition or desire is a totally different thing. Contentedness is not an option for me. Not anymore. I can't let it happen.

I want joy, or I want misery.

I do want to live. I just need a new definition, I think. New meaning.

On the other hand, I was a much better pool player back then.