I never seem to be content.
When I have purple, I want green.
When I have green, I want orange.
And when I fight the whole world just to attain orange, I realise that all along I wanted purple.
This is the kind of dilemma that can enter your brain and fry it.
And eat it too.
My brain is burning, and so is peace.
Peace burns before my eyes.
While I stand and wish I could've touched it just once before the flames embraced it.
Maybe nothing in this world is right.
Maybe a dilemma is simply a conflict between neutral ideas. And because they seem neutral, it becomes all the more difficult to choose. And sometimes, I can't choose because I know that whatever I do choose, will not keep me happy for long. That I will run out of contentment.
I'm tired. Really.
Especially of this temporary contentment that sets in with great gusto.
Before I move on to cribbing and grousing, making myself utterly miserable by my hopeless pursuit of perfection.
And this is what keeps me miles away from happiness.
This pursuit of perfection.
Practice makes perfect. And perfect makes life hell.
For me and everybody who has to endure me.
I wish I could live on an island and teach myself what many have sought to learn before.
This search is not new.
It is for that elusive bunny.
Who bounds and cackles and hops away.
Amused by me.
As I clutch at it with anxious and hopeful hands.