Fickle. Fickle, fickle humans. Restless and rather stupid. Sometime a simple slap would be a good idea or simply sufficient to shake one out of ones race for completion.
I aspire. It is my strength and my weakness. Because I aspire, because I have passion - a human condition one day, an affliction the next - I evolve, I blossom, and I stink at life.
I have ups and downs that range so radically some days that I long for the day I can flat line. How peaceful that would be. How wonderfully restful.
So what is it? What is this drive for completion? This thirst, this unquenchable thirst. Why can't I just be? Why am I not content?
Will I ever be truly content?
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