My office, with its expensive furniture, feels like a jail cell. They put stain glass in the one window I had and now I can’t even see out. I have artwork on the wall, but it doesn’t help enough.
The church building is bigger and more lavish than any I’ve worked with in a while but the walls press in on me regularly even in the biggest room. I’m mad every time I walk the halls and feel the opulence of the facilities. And as expensive as it all is, as pretty as they all say it is, I think it looks ugly and ridiculous.
My house is small and I can’t find even a corner of privacy. The neighbors have their houses close to ours and we can hear the family next door fighting or partying right outside our bedroom window.
I walk the streets and every damn dog in the town barks at me when I go past. A huge number of the dogs in this hick town are pit bulls or rottweilers—I hope their chains hold and the fences are high enough.
The only time I have any privacy is early in the morning before anybody else is up.
It’s the weirdest feeling to want to be left alone and feel lonely at the same time.