What if the life you were meant to live never existed except as a figment or your own imagination? What if asking yourself rhetorical questions was the only life you were meant to live. Had I not got a pain in my neck precipitating my getting up and rubbing ointment in it, and writing this post as an exercise in insomniac purging- where would these thoughts go. What if the best ideas that humanity got – individually and in toto were flushed down the toilet everyday because we were too busy compromising for five more minutes of sleep. for five more dollars per hour. for five more years with the unhappy relationship. What if I supposed to write movie scripts that moved millions to laughs and tears instead of writing books a few hundred would read and posts for a few thousand more.
Ever think about the jobs you took for money. You compromised with your own self your own satisfaction and your own conscience. Think about the jobs you took for satisfaction turning down the money. You compromised with your brain, sense of logic the little voice in your head saying hey dumb arse, stop being so egoistic. The girl you saw at the cafe whom you felt was your divine soul but never said hello to because you were afraid to making a fool of yourself.
The compromises we make are the unhappiness we chose to live with. The comprises are the choices.
What if this was all there was to it.