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I’m depressed. I hate it.
I’ve been thinking about the house today. I talked to Mama again today about selling the house. She’s all for keeping it. She says she can’t bear the thought of me not having anywhere to go when I come home. I’m sure at least some of it has to do simply with Mama not wanting to sell the house. I understand where she’s coming from. I don’t want to sell it, either.
I’m being selfish. Selling the house would let me buy recording equipment and give me a chance to get out of the truck. But what a sacrifice. And there’s the ever-present nagging doubt. I actually said to myself a few minutes ago “who am I kidding?” I feel like a kid who is still looking at equipment catalogs and dreaming of the day when I’ll be able to make my own music. Sure, a studio would, or could, be a solid business. But a lot of studios have come and gone in this area. What if they were all good, and there’s just not a market? How would I feel knowing that I had sacrificed the house on the pyre of my ambitions, only to find out it was all for nothing?
The thought of selling the house kills me. But the only other option is to remain in the truck from now on. That thought makes me cold. I could survive it. But what is life without hope? It’s been years since I’ve felt any hope. The idea of a recording studio gives me hope, but it terrifies me at the same time. I realize that there’s always a risk in anything you do. But I’m afraid of this.
I feel like I can’t breathe. As I keep telling Mama, there are no good choices here. I wish I could just run off and play at being young and free like Mara is. But I’m forty years old. Whatever choices I make here in the next few weeks and months had better be good ones. At this point in my life, I can’t afford a blunder.
If not for Mama I would take this risk without a moment’s hesitation. But am I so selfish that I will sacrifice her home and happiness for my childish desires? Or is this whole studio thing a valid idea?
I used to believe in myself. Years ago I had no doubt in my abilities or in my direction. Now I’m not so sure. That’s what’s torturing me. What if I’m wrong? I’d like to see this mess with Mara as an opportunity. It would certainly benefit both of us to sell the house and go our separate ways. But damn, just thinking about this leaves a deep emptiness in my chest. Not because of what it will cost me, but what it will cost Mama.

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