That Other Place

by F.

From time to time I get the feeling that I should be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else. Usually the alternative is vague or nonexistent. I don’t have anything in mind. Just a persistent, nagging sense of another option I need to pursue.

It’s easy to think about some fantasy alternative universe in which everything is better and nothing is worse. That other job where everyone is nice all the time, you get paid a load of money, and there’s no stress. That other house that has a perfect view of the water, in a tree-lined neighborhood, with plenty of square feet. That family that never fights, supports you fully, and never demands a thing.

But after I think things through, I quite often realize that I’m where I should be. Or at least, where I am is not bad by any means and the alternative is, realistically, no better. Inertia is bad, but so is churn that flows from vague fantasies of the better life you could have if only you could….

Advertisements