Between the worlds of the sacred and the profane.

Sometimes there are demons that refuse to leave me alone. Some of them are my personal succubi, tantalizing and teasing in what they might appear to offer, trying to appeal to vanities or dreams that governed me for so long and that I've since been trying to exorcise. Sometimes they appear as proud apparitions seeking to sway me with hopes and ideas again.

I'm torn between decisions. Standing again before the rift in my personal world, peering again into its echoing chasm and hearing my own hurtful words shouted back at me, I'm asking myself about what exactly should I, could I, would I want to handle. Is it better to suck it up and be the strong guy again, to try and demonstrate some bigger sense of leadership and belief, or do I finally give myself permission to be the avatar of my own longer-term happiness and let myself let go? Either way, I suspect my actions wil yet again fall under the smug scrutiny and judgment of others, and others who never seem fully satisfied or compassionate.

These are among the old headaches that I'm tired of, and thought I had finally found my way away from and approaching a peace with having done so.