Misery loves company.
It breaks my heart how we, as humans, can make ourselves so willingly miserable, and then suffer over how miserable we are, wishing things were different, even though we are the reason we’re so goddamn tainted in the first place.
It’s like when we want true love, and it’s right in front of our faces, but it isn’t good enough for us, so we have to keep going in the direction of whatever it is that’s readily available and unattainable, whatever has led to our string of suffering in the first place.
Because if we don’t have that suffering, then we’re left with nothing but simple pleasantries and peace, and for people like myself, that’s never, ever enough.
It’s like when we want true love, and it’s right in front of our faces, but it isn’t good enough for us, so we have to keep going in the direction of whatever it is that’s readily available and unattainable, whatever has led to our string of suffering in the first place.
Because if we don’t have that suffering, then we’re left with nothing but simple pleasantries and peace, and for people like myself, that’s never, ever enough.