Air Conditioning

Satisfaction

I try to be better.

No matter how much people look at me and go
"Wow, I want to be like them."
I still try to be better.

It makes me feel like there's this never ending loop of expectations that people have

A vicious cycle designed to tear us limb from limb

Until we're numb.

And here's the gist of it.

If even the person you want to be like,
The one you hold closest to your heart,
The one who seems perfect in every way..

If even they don't feel perfect,
Don't feel accomplished,
Then what's the point of wanting to be like them? Wanting to be like anyone?

Your Idols are not satisfied.
Your teachers are not pure of heart.
Your parents are not just support beams.

Everyone is so worn down from trying. From reaching out for a new goal until their arms hurt, and then feeling satisfied with that accomplishment which had felt like the biggest thing in the world to them mere moments ago, for only a mere moment, before tearing themselves apart again to reach for the next.

And yes, the shredding of our efforts makes us grow back stronger.

And yes, people may look at us now and see someone worth becoming like.

But there's no point in going though all that pain to become like me when all you'll do is suffer to become someone better the second after, dropping me like an afterthought, an inferior being.

And if you don't become like me?

Then you'll be staring down at your feet, and then up at my shadow, at the looming light just ahead that is blocked by me, leaving you in darkness and wondering;

When does it stop hurting?

At what point can we just.. be?

At what point do we stop trying to be better? At what point are we satisfied?

The answer to that is simple.

The moment we reach the darkness.

The nothingness.

The afterlife.

The reincarnation.

Heaven's gates.

Whatever it is you want to see when the life drains from your eyes, when the will to move seeps from your muscles, when your skin no longer warms you.

We will be stuck in the cycle of tearing ourselves apart to be different until our final breaths, simply because of one thing.

We're human.

And humans have never been capable of feeling true satisfaction.