I was always idealistic. I always wanted to believe that the shortcomings I perceived in personal interactions was a trick of my minds eye. That it wasn't really like that.
I dreamed that one day I would see it clearly. That all that gray would give way to a truer light. That I was wrong.
I built my life on being wrong, in many ways. I counted it. But in many ways I was right. Everything has a life, everything I perceived is exactly what it was. It's hard to accept, but I made the right decisions.
There is a clock over every head, ticking away. Every friend you've ever had, had a timer. I think the problem is that I don't have a timer, or for some reason I don't listen to that bell when it goes off. I am determined to continue in the search for something real in my interactions. The fact that it ends just because it does invalidates it so much. It's measurable, it's comparable, it's just another thing in your life. It isn't real.
Whether by some, failing, or some, success, I am only interested in what is real. What can be built upon. Though I feel I have seen hints of it, the truth of the matter is far from me at this moment. I still just choose to believe that something more is possible, even if that too has it's time and then ends. I still choose to believe that these rules are not unbreakable, not universal.
I still choose to believe that all of this will not have been in vain.