I get eaten by the worms and weird fishes. Picked over by the worms and weird fishes.

It takes a certain type of person to be able to successfully live on your own. Lately, I'm feeling more and more that I'm not one of them.
Or perhaps I'm looking at this the wrong way. Perhaps everybody can and indeed should live on their own to gain a deeper understanding of the sort of person they are. Maybe when you're on your own, you're living at your most vulnerable and if anything, it gives you a good insight at the things in your life that really make the differences.

Almost twelve months ago, I quit my job and took the plunge into self employment. The only thing that nags at me is that it's been financially crippling. Other than that, I have no regrets. With huge restraints on my finances, many things have been affected. My fridge and food cupboard have been even more barren than normal. I haven't been able to go to as many gigs as I would have liked. Gifts for friends and family member's birthdays have been virtually none existent, luckily helped by everybody being so understanding. I don't get out as much because I can't afford to keep topping up the fuel and I have rarely been out with friends because I simply can't afford it. It's also affected the time I've spent with The Girl. Again, the fuel has been an issue, but also we haven't been going out or 'doing things' that we would have liked to do. The bills that come hand in hand with having one's own place have seemed to become bigger and somehow more demanding, even though in reality, I don't think they've changed at all. The metered services are the only ones I have any control over, hence I've been sparse with my use of electricity and brutally mean with my gas usage by not having my heating on. My home telephone only serves the purpose of providing my broadband connection and taking incoming calls. I've cancelled payments for things that I didn't deem important enough and have literally been living hand to mouth.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. I hate the way money can rule one's life, even when you try so hard to make it an irrelevant issue.
I used to have people round a lot of the time. This has changed considerably this last twelve months, predominantly because I'm embarrassed to have people see what state I live in. My parents have helped me out financially, particularly this last six months and if I'm completely honest, I think they'd be shocked if they saw me now. Luckily, they don't come over to mine and most of our communications happen over the phone or when I visit their place. But that's all wrong. I feel like I'm hiding from people. And it feels wrong.

As each week goes by, I feel more and more convinced that I would feel happier getting out of this house. This house I've never felt comfortable enough calling home. It's far too big for me and whilst it proved too good an opportunity to miss out on when I bought it, I'm now feeling that having such a big, empty space surrounding me is proving more detrimental to my happiness. Empty, unused bedrooms serve no purpose anymore. They would come in handy when friends and family would visit and stay over, but as I've said, that doesn't happen anymore.

I'm a firm believer that life is what you make it. A certain amount of planning and organisation may be required. I'm certainly not the type of person who wallows in their own self pity, waiting for something to change. Waiting for somebody else to make things happen. It's become very apparent to me, particularly recently, that if I just sit this out then I might as well be watching my life unfold in fast forward. And when I hit 'play' again the only thing that's changed is that another twelve months have gone by. And that's twelve months of my life that I will never get back.
If it were possible to travel forward in time and you were offered the opportunity to go forward twelve months, just think how disappointed you would feel if what you saw about yourself and your life was exactly the same as you saw before you jumped.

Living on my own these last 2 1/2 years has really opened my eyes. I like my own company. I like that fact that I have the freedom to be able to play music I love, at volumes I like, whenever I like. I like the fact that my TV is rarely on. I like the fact that I can have a lounge in the bath with the door open. I like the fact that I can eat (or not) whatever I like, whenever I like. I like the fact that I can get stoned. I like the fact that I can masturbate without worrying that somebody might walk in or over-hear. I like the fact I can keep the place relatively tidy without relying on others to do the same. I like the fact that I know where everything is.
But for every like, there is a dislike.
And for every like, there is a worry and concern that other people might not be so forgiving, or understanding, or responsive, or tolerant. And I wonder....is that very selfish of me?

Perhaps I'm just reaching the end of another chapter in my life. Perhaps the unwritten chapters demand a certain amount of change to keep my interest. Or maybe I have been given a taste of what could really make me happy and it's time I dealt with these itchy feet.