Discontent...

There is a despair in me that I cannot explain away with all my inventive genius. I can't put my finger on whether it is guilt at the consequences I have now chosen to add to my life and that of others or just my selfish needs or if its pure wishful thinking for utopian win-wins. Maybe its a sorry mix of both - yes that's most likely it. What I want, what I seek is soo much different than what life is throwing at me right now – and I have to face it. Avoidence wont solve anything, at best and at worse it will ruin all.

But, I can't make excuses without tripling my self-disgust, and all these dreams make it so difficult to turn away the little bits and peices that seem to be manifesting themselves in my day to day. It is these little bits and pieces of my dreams that keep my faith alive. I keep hoping the day will get better and all my fears will be proven wrong. But,maybe having so much beliefe in something isnt such a good thing afterall, and that’s why it’s the cynics who will always remain happy. I see now that the parts in isolation of each other don't add up to the whole. Hence the emptiness, the bitter silence of my inner judge - condemning my stupidity, my greed, my pitifulness. I cannot survive more introspection – for I don’t see it manifest into something constructive for me to deal with this pain.

I understand now the bigger picture, for the approach had been all or nothing. Funny thing is, I had just been getting used to the nothing too and actually figuring out how to enjoy the anticipation. But now the anticipation is over and , I find myself praying silenty for a some for some strength, for some wisdom and for some miracles.

I know I sound like complete pessimist who refuses to see the glass as half full, but I think with this there is a floating line , a barometer of need and desire. It's entirely up to the individual. And depends on what's being poured.

I see now, that when I am supposed to be happy, I still find a reason to be discontent. Maybe I am happy being discontent, because if you get everything you ever wanted …then what’s next?

Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.