But I have a particular ability that mars the glassy surface of these stories. I can see under that surface to the dark, cold area below. I have a tendency to analyze things, from physical, psychological, and philosophical standpoints. When you look too hard, you find things you don't want to see. I see personality flaws. I see things that retract from the attractiveness of a setting. I guess over-analysis is less of an ability and more of a flaw itself. When prescribed an antibiotic, taking an overdose can kill. Too much of a good thing is never a good thing.
The problem with this constant over-analysis is that everything has flaws to be uncovered. The Grand Canyon has beauty in the highest caliber, but it is desolate and alone. Pleasanton is a home, a place with memories and a place to rest, but the people are conceited and cold. Even the brilliant and adamantine diamond is flawed with the weakness of its own natural strength. Nothing is perfect; everything has its weak points.
Because of this, I am restless. I cannot stay with the same people for too long because I am disappointed by the inevitable discovery that they are imperfect. I cannot be in one place for long before I discover its shortcomings. This is not specific to any person or place, but rather a consistent observance from the unconscious.
I sometimes think that it would be best if I left my things and took to the road for a few years. It wouldn't be wasted time. Or, perhaps, I could join the military and move from base to base around the world. I'd like to go to different universities, live in different cities, countries, work with different people. I want to stay long enough to see the good, but leave before I detect the flaws. The world through the eyes of the traveler is much more beautiful and peaceful than from the perspective of we who stand still. Children visit the zoo for a day and find joy in seeing the animals, but the animals remain confined in their condition.
I want to go somewhere else. I am not sure if it should be outside the country, the state, or simply to the other side of the street, but I have to move. I do not know what I am moving towards or away from; I have no goal but to exist. I do not know how long I should wander, or to where, or to whom, but I know that I cannot stand still.
Current Mood: Indifferent
Listening To: "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens
