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  • janenewaudby

Getting out of jail

As you may know, we escaped from office jobs and now live in the Highlands. When we are in the office jobs, we would fantasize about life on the other side, a bit like being in jail; we dreamed of our freedom. Now we have it. People "on the inside" with their proper jobs, mortgages and rail passes look at us with wonder and amazement and they whisper "how wonderful". They look at my view from the studio and say how beautiful it must be to look at that view every day. It is, but I am also here to tell you that a prison break messes with your head. Modern life institutionalises you. You get accustomed to routine (if you are like me), and you always have those precious weekends to saviour "what life could be like". Total freedom is wonderful, but suddenly all the hours are your responsibility to fill. There are a million competing ways you can fill them (not even including looking at the beautiful view). I feel like a scientist with a million experiments to complete to find the formula I am looking for. I don't really even know what I am looking for. Some days I feel a bit like flotsam, emotionally speaking, being buffeted by waves, tossed by the wind, attacked by seagulls, but with a beautiful view, and no mortgage. Its funny isn't it. We ditch the shackles and still manage to search for new shackles to secure us, to give our lives great meaning. I guess that's it - I am still looking for my purpose in life. Or maybe the point is that there is just no purpose at all. Just eat cake, love well, and die, and appreciate we were here at all.

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