ansata

I think, in this life, we all strive for things we cannot have. Ideas we don't have the capacity to posses.
I think we are all driven by that we think we are supposed to want, what we're told we need. I am a victim, I cannot lie. Somewhere in this commonplace, this void... this... emptiness, out of the melodic, the melodramatic, this melancholy existence, there must be something else. It is inevitable in my mind. the grind of the everyday... the simpleness in all the conversation. I want more... I want stimulation, I want enlightenment. But possibly enlightenment only through simple understanding.
I am but a spark, a blip in time, I am here for a reason, but my time presiding here will be brief. this am I sure of, for I would not have it any other way.
this endless restlessness, unease... as if I have yet to discover where I fit. Where my wondering soul will cease being solicitous. I have come to think that I may never find such peace.

Maybe, however, in it's own way, this frustration is a disguised blessing. this un-settlement keeps me striving for more, wishing for what I fear I cannot achieve, and dreaming far outside of this confining box.