Contemplation
There is something about having too much time for thinking that is a particularly insidious kind of torture. Oddly the inability to hide from oneself is crueler a fate than any slings thrown from ill wishers and uncaring passers by. Because they don't really know. They can guess and insinuate and imagine but they will never know. They will never know the secret insecurities and thoughts that drive the stupid decisions and embarrassing moments. Those insecurities that resurrect every unaddressed feeling or moment that has occurred since birth and a few more beyond that. No external party can ever torture you as deeply and profoundly as your own mind.
This is the real reason that life is generally so busy. Physical survival was created to support emotional survival. Perhaps it merely exists as a distraction so that the force of all the baggage hits in bits and pieces rather than in an avalanche. This is why holidays are 2 weeks not 8, working for a living is a necessity rather than an option and those who have nothing but money and time are so remarkably self destructive. Without work to distract you, there remains chemicals. Well, chemicals or actually dealing with the problems, but that's far less entertaining than one would hope.
Still, every once in a while there is an unexpected external assist that comes along to help through the bits that somehow seemed like they are just always going to be there. And sometimes that external assist is someone who broadcasts their neurosis like a one person talk radio show. Someone who can be in a crowded room and still who's only company is their own neurosis. Because when someone who gives so much power to these no longer secret thought echoes a still secret thought of your own, somehow it gives new light on the decision of just how much power to give those nasty hidden thoughts.
