From my diary, circa may 2011
I’m afraid. I worry that if I stay in once place too long, I’ll do something stupid like get a respectable job in an air conditioned office or get married and buy a house. The twin demons of logic and expectations lurk under the floorboards of my apartment. I can usually scare them away by thinking of absurd building projects that consume great amounts of time and money, but when I run out of ideas, the demons sense my vulnerability; they flatten their shoulders and slip between the cracks in the floor and waft upwards to loom over my prone body, and lacking the creativity to keep them at bay or the strength to evade them, I buy a ticket and flee.