The Ouroboros Effect
The last couple of weeks, I’ve been feeling like a man without a country, or in simpler terms, without a home. Not that I don’t have a home—I do—but lately, it hasn’t felt like one. So, I’ve been staying in hotels, and for the past few days, I’ve been watching my buddy’s dogs while he’s away on a Disney World trip with his girlfriend and kids.
Let’s talk about these dogs for a second. There are three of them: one is supposed to be a miniature Doberman Pinscher named Izzy, but she actually looks like a fat fucking potbelly pig. She’s cool though, no issues. The other two, however—Bella and Gizmo, both French Bulldogs—are like little fucking terrorists. The have a penchant for getting all up in my grill and barking without any provocation. They also take full advantage of my habit of sleeping on the couch rather than a bed, which might be because beds feel lonely to me, even when I’m not alone. But that’s a topic for another day.
…my thoughts (my enemy) seem to feed on themselves—like the Ouroboros effect
Anyway, the fucking terrorist, aka, Bella and Gizmo, like to wait until I’m deep in my slumber game before causing chaos—pulling the blanket off me, biting my feet, and then settling in. Bella sleeps almost on my head, while Gizmo snuggles right between my legs, uncomfortably close to my junk. Who does that?
Sorry, needed to vent for a moment. Back to why I’m living like a nomad, moving from place to place.
My decision to leave home wasn’t made by choice but out of mental necessity. It’s something I’ve been obsessing over since I left. It probably has more to do with a recent life-changing decision I felt I had to make (still do). It’s strange how such decisions can affect every aspect of life. There’s a saying about not being your own worst enemy, and in my case, my thoughts (my enemy) seem to feed on themselves—like the Ouroboros effect. I know I made the right decision, or at least I hope I did, but my thoughts keep torturing me. On one hand, I can reason through things and understand the situation from an external perspective, but logic doesn’t always help with the intense emotional struggle that accompanies such decisions. This struggle can burn through one’s ability to reason like a fire running unabated. I fall asleep obsessing about it and wake up with the same thoughts, creating a never-ending cycle—the Ouroboros effect.
I’m going to be okay. Now maybe that’s a thought I should put on repeat, perhaps.
MH ~
