I don't want to write about ...

I don't want to write about feeling stuck.  I don't want to admit that perhaps returning to my old work place although feeling like family and home, also feels like some kind of caged existence.  I can see the world, but I can't move from the spot.  I thought the cage had changed, gone, expanded.  Something. I had ideas about the cage being more, well, gilded I guess.  But it's still a cage.

I don't want to write about the feeling of panic, the want to get away again. 
I don't want to write about decisions and mistakes. 
I don't want to write about how the trap is one I've made.
I don't want to write about how I know how easy it is to open the trap but somehow I won't do it. 
I don't want to write about the fact this isn't just about work.
I don't want to write about how afraid I am.
I don't want to write about my disappointment.
I don't want to write about why I'm not taking action.

I just want to stick to writing about shallow flimsy things and pretending that the world is swelling like a ripening pumpkin, glowing and warm, sugary and solid.