Progress is a word I've come to hate, almost passionately. I keep thinking about the future, and about how I've progressed. How I'm going to progress. And I hate it.

That's not to say a person shouldn't try to progress, or that I haven't been trying, or that I'm going to give up trying. Obviously, that isn't the case. Everyone should progress. Stagnancy isn't an option. You can't just sit still.

No, I hate it right now because it's so goddamned elusive. What matters to me now is different from what mattered to me one, two, five, ten years ago. But I feel like I've been unable to take actions based on my priorities, my values, my judgments as they change. I want to say I've been trying. I want to say I've based my decisions on what what is actually best for me, instead of on habit and circumstance.

I want to say that outside circumstances have kept me where I am, despite my best efforts, and that the fault isn't my own.

That's all bullshit, though, really.

Where was I three years ago? Two years ago? In the exact same goddamn place. I took a detour for a year. A vacation. I experienced a glimpse of what life might've been like outside this little shell. I had fun. I got hurt. Whatever. But it wasn't anything more than a detour, and now I'm back. My values have changed a little, whether it be because of or in spite of what happened in those months. My goals have changed a fair amount. My present situation is essentially unchanged, and I've done nothing thus far to change it again.

I've been back here for nearly a year now. Not only am I back at my old job, but I'm getting ready to go back into my old position there. This house hasn't changed at all. My feelings for this house haven't changed at all. It's still like a fucking straitjacket.

And that's what part of my problem is. The other part is, I can't seem recognize where I have changed and progressed, because what's the same is so glaring. I may be able to leave this behind, to live my own life, to afford myself and let what happens here happen. But I haven't. I may be able to let go what's not mine, and accept what is, but I can't bring myself to just yet.

But I have changed. While I can't let go what wasn't mine, I can try to grab ahold of something infinitely better. And I'm starting to allow myself to try. I'm starting to convince myself that, circumstances be damned, time isn't up and I'm still worth far more than what I've thus far been able to attain. My standards--for people, for art, for living, for the mind--are changing. I think I'm finally starting to learn that progression isn't just where you stand today against where you stood yesterday, or where you want to stand tomorrow. It's also knowing you can get there, knowing how, and doing it. Before, I was convinced that if I could just grin and bear it, for just a little while longer, things would be different. Now, I know I need to change them. It doesn't need to be automatic, but I need to change them. Knowing that I need to make circumstances adjust as I progress is the biggest realization I need to come to.

Some people are never going to improve. Certain facts of my life are inalterable. Mistakes I made in the past don't go away.

But I'm comin' 'round.

And maybe I can learn to love the word progress again.