The Dead Rat Orchestra

There are shadows chasing me. Or that's what it feels like. A worldly guilt that I can't put my finger on. I cook food, and look at it and think, "I didn't sow, farm, or harvest this food. The money that I used to buy it isn't even mine, so how can I eat it?" Well actually not "Can I eat it?" Clearly I can, and have. But the crunch is: When do I have to give back what I have taken? I've taken too much, and not given back. That's why I feel this way. The other day my Dad sent me an email. It was long and wordy. He was concerned that I wasn't fulfilling my potential. He told me that my cv had too many gaps in it (he has never seen my cv) and that employers would "look elsewhere" if I did not appear to be giving them what they wanted. I replied telling him that I was thinking of going freelance, and that I was interested in alternative forms of therapy for treating mental illness like depression and anxiety. Not something I can really tell the jobcentre, but my dad did psychology for his degree way back when he was in my shoes, so I thought he'd understand. I gave him no indication that I'd found a career - how could I? - but I suppose it proved to him that I haven't gone off my rocker yet. Although the scary thing is if I had gone nutso, he probably wouldn't find out about it until it was too late. The only difference between the 'drifters' and the 'freelancers' is that the freelancers have a plan. They know where they are going. I am not business minded, never have been, but I am not stupid enough to believe that I can get better by myself. I neither want to join the rat race, nor do I want to be beaten by it, but I'll have to pick my self up and move if I don't want to be trodden on by it.