day143 - pit
my mother's family calls bedrooms "pits". it's quaint and cute. alongside that term, i inherited from them a faulty heart, a love of music, my inertia, and its corresponding guilt.
during lonely school holidays i would leave the house with my mother just for the sake of it. we had the same disease.
i used to leave the house a lot. used to go into the city every day for "work". spend my evenings in someone else's house. now i work from home, ping between here, the office once a week, and two other houses on opposite sides of town. i go without meds if it means needing to leave and pick them up. i don't really run out, i just put it off as far back as i can. if im leaving the house i daisy-chain errands so i can get it all out of the way: excellent, dentist appointment which is close to the supermarket & pharmacy, then to the office, home before 5.
occasionally the resounding cry of "i need to leave the house" will ring out in my head and I'll respond by going to sleep or otherwise failing to summon the energy/resolve to do it.
cleared my calendar for the week. the scratch on my back burns at all times. can my self loathing motivate me to go outside to exercise.