All I know are plans. Plans for the future, plans for the moment, plans to get me there. I'm a dreamer and I just want my life to mean everything, but too often it seems to mean nearly nothing. At what point does it settle down, or is contentment a type of concession?
I think I'm attracted to settlers because I envy their complacency. Complacency in the perfect appreciation of now. To appreciate the moment in such a way that all plans are forgotten or simply lost to the beauty of this very moment. (George only knows this perfect appreciation for every moment in his life and maybe this is why pets bring such enviable, unbridled joy to our souls. Even when he sleeps, he is love.)
So many of my moments are sacrificed to the anticipation of my plans and that is my modern day tragedy.