I am tired of this search for happiness. This never ending quest to better yourself. It ceases to inspire me. Nowhere, is the end near, only journey to go on and on. Why can't I just get what I wan't when I want it. Why can't life be perfect. Even wanting something so badly doesn't make it come true. Paulo Coelho got it wrong in my case. The whole universe is not conspiring to get me what I want. In fact I think it is actually letting me wallow in my misery. This utter boredom and solitude. This never ending gloominess like power going off , and you are not able to find the switch to turn back the lights on. When you do reach the switch, you realise that the bulb is not working. Where do you get the bulb? Which store can I find it, I do not know. People say with time, things get better. In reality, they don't only the fact that you get more used to your own misery. There in lies the truth, the sage and my reality.
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