There has to be something that I’ve been looking for. Right? But then I suppose the question would be what or whether I truly deep down inside know what that something is. I want to know why I can still ache for happiness I’m not sure I’ve ever had.
That’s most likely because I’m searching more for fulfillment than happiness. To be happy is to be simple and vain. Happiness is the cheap flowers sold on the side of a street that could be bought for someone. Happiness is not knowing whether those flowers were thrown out. People talk about happiness on Facebook, which I do and have done which makes me no better than the rest. To be happy is to have the consistent comfort of another human soul who may or may not mean much or anything at all.
I think it’s time that I give up on the pursuit of happiness for something more substantial. It will most certainly be more difficult and could be impossible but for some reason that is not known to me to be natural or un, I have to go on. There is a simple life that I could take, but if I did such a thing something that smells like regret would haunt and fill my mind.
Sorry I’m being such a bummer. I haven’t gotten laid in a while.
There’s a bit of light shining through my window. The wind is blowing the trees out there. It’s a world that is very much alive. My search for an answer has just turned into a search for words which I am just as lost for. Hence the poor prose preceding all points before here.
When the future comes to pass, it’s usually quiet and hard to notice. Distraction from whatever you’d like, keeps you slower than the passing world. The air shakes around me in shapes that only pavement can make and I am no steps closer to being anywhere but here which is, as of now, not a poetic place to be.
Success to me may not be the same to you, nor fame nor love. If I knew the minds of those around me I could have dodged many things and caught a few others. I would have seized many more moments but ‘would’ is too cruel a word. It’s almost as cruel as ‘will’, which when followed with a ‘be’ and then a promise. Why promise something when it could just be done right away?
I am trying to cure myself of all that makes me ill. And by trying, I mean that I fancy the idea of trying but have yet to make any grand moves in the direction of proper pursuit. Naturally, they are all based on some sort of tick inside my mind that could easily be diagnosed as mental illness for the right price on the pill bottle. Most of these said ailments are a result of pressure from some sort of capitalistic cultural movement towards re-education in my generation and more importantly, my willingness to comply. My individuality, if it even really exists, is a new and hard fought idea.
Right here, right now as I type each of these words, know that I face this very enemy that constantly plagues me and my father told me about all these years. I want instant gratification for my every whim and with that, comes no satisfaction. I also don’t know if I can get anything that is even like satisfaction in this life of mine.
Look at the size of that thing. The great white lie. I am less than happy now so all my past can be seen as is less than that. I know that I’ve had a time or two or twenty, when I was much happier but since those are gone, I cower to think about them. It’s selfish and childish, I’m sure, but I have a back that aches too much for it to carry on this way.
And after tossing around a bit, I’ve come to the same point that I’ve been all day. And for now, it doesn’t really matter because this is a week late anyway. I have become caught on the hinge of wanting to feel desperate and lonely in the hope of attraction for too long. There wasn’t a lass to be seen in the sight that could be had in the bar. I’ll try to come up with an answer tomorrow. Or you could come help me find such a tale, if it even exists at all.