interesting lives

Funny the variety of responses generated when asking the definition of success. Funny how the definition of failure is all the same.

People waste their time poking around aimlessly. They poke here and there and never arrive on a definite goal or plan. Their ideals and convictions ebb and flow with the tides of circumstance. They never worry about of the effects of not anchoring to strong foundations. Instead they’re blown about, blaming the oceans and currents for their misfortune. And of course, when they strike something resembling an accomplishment they’re sure to extol their sheer willpower and skill for the win.

People are funny. They’re so lost. I say this with the most humble of hearts. I know the severity of being lost, lying to oneself on a daily basis. I speak knowing the confusion and blindness that wraps its way into the recesses of the mind. I’ve been there too often. Fortunately I’m not too good at lying, whether it be to myself or others. Self deception is the worst of lies. Its the only lie that covers its own tracks. It’s easy to get lost. Working hard doesn’t designate progress. People spend their whole lives convinced they’ve got it figured out. They refuse to be real with themselves and admit that progress should be measured by accomplishments, by reaching and overcoming goals, not through the simple act of motion. Accomplishment should have purpose and meaning and passionate desire.

So they go about their lives, continuing the habits that have brought them exactly where they are today. And if asked how content they were they would reply with a sour response. Or they would lie. And their life would speak the sadness for them.

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I try wondering what it is people live for. Is it material gain? Is it for themselves? Is it for the sake of futile accomplishment? Is it for the glory, the attention, the fleeting moments of instant gratification, the precious glimpse of self worth?

People go through the motions. They are horrible creatures of habit. Usually bad habits. They squander in filth and hapless destruction, trying in vain to wring some satisfaction out of the dry life they live.

People need meaning. I’d offer them God, but they’d reject it in the same notion that god has no place in their life. Sad. They want tangible assurance yet nothing they offer themselves seems to quench their longing.