Baby don’t pretend, that you don’t know it’s true
Cos you can see it when I look at you
One of the things I secretly love about love songs is imagining it happening to me. Guess that’s why when I broke up the other time, I was strangely heartened by the fact that I can dream up my perfect love story, again. What an odd kind of thrill that went through me when that thought first hit me; it’s buried in this blog somewhere.
Chronic malcontent is a tiresome disease. You find yourself in a perpetual state of want. When you’re at Point A, you covet Point B, knowing full well that getting to Point B will only make you itch for Point A again.
It’s easy to suspend myself in this brink of adulthood. This fork, on the road. Because my choices seem to lie right ahead of me. My vantage point offers me the best view ever–a kind of pending anticipation from a safe distance, still ensconced in the bubble of my comfort zone. I cheat myself into thinking I have the best of both worlds. If today I like Path A, it’s Path A I’m going to get. And I naively envision the glorious things that lie ahead in my Path A life. Tomorrow, I may wake up deciding it’s Path B I’m pursuing, and its treasures lie within my mental grasp.
But second by second, this vantage point is slipping from me. Even Time cannot stand still for my wishful thinking. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to pick an option that I will regret for the rest of my life.
For now, I have my two paths and my purposeful ignorance to feed an ill-advised habit of idealism, my romantic song lyrics and an imaginary world to escape into. That is the bliss I know.