Tonight I find myself in that superior place of all knowing.
There are no distractions in my way. Drunkery and foolishness are pale companions to the truth I see before me plain as day.
I look behind me and see a life of desperation and grasping, ever grasping towards a false god of many promises and and succulent pleasures always beyond knowing.
I see it in the people I’ve come to admire, and sacrificed much to be alike, the grasping, the desperation. The skepticism, the unending desperation and sadness of failure at never reaching something we’ve never wanted.
The acceptance, the perfection, the acknowledgement we’ve always had but always ignored. The wisdom we’ve always ignored but always knew was there, like a despondent friend, always supportive, always patient, but always smiling pitifully at our choices, continually hoping for that last final chance to be what we believed would make us truly and totally whole.
So we forever grasp and try and give and adjust and give it one more go and tell ourselves we are closer than ever. We gulp hard and accept that we are less than what we are made of in hopes of one day achieving the illusion of a happiness that has never existed for anyone, self hypnotized into a system that extracts the very drops of happiness that spring forth naturally in us until we are once again empty and conscious of our failure.
And so it goes, again and again, only the free people enjoying what we wish we had, the rest of us submitting our lives to the miserable who know only what agonies befall us should we continue to follow along the same path.