Why must I revert? Why can’t I simply use self-will to make changes? Why is the groove so deeply entrenched? Typing this creates a feeling of release from some of these entrenchments. I have sometimes wished I could capture this feeling 24 hours a day. That doesn’t seem to be possible, though, at least not for me. I revert.

I can only imagine that there is enough of a part of me that needs these things, the things I hate. I have read Facebook posts about tendencies of creative people. Some of them sound quite familiar. Is that to say that I will always be battling my disorganized, addictive, emotional tendencies for as long as I remain creative (alive)?

So there are different ways of interpreting the same actions. On the one hand, I feel I inevitably undermine anything good that I do by soiling it with poisonous activities. On the other shoe, my passionate nature demands that I remain soiled and impure, veering away from sterility in favor of messy randomness, physical discomfort, and constantly pushing my body and soul to its limits. Maybe I am deathly afraid of motionlessness. I have to come back to self destruction in order to feel I am learning and growing. Nothing seems to be worse for growth than happiness and satisfaction. Of course my definition of happiness and satisfaction vacillates by the minute, depending where I just was on the spectrum. I chase those sensations futilely.