"There is nothing more miserable than life."
Even as I say the words in my head, the ringing coalescence of the individual words make it seem less like a statement of generalities and more like an undeniable truth. It's a very strange thing, life. On the one hand, it is more miserable than anything, but at the same time cannot the same thing be said about life and joy? You would think then, that a balance would be achieved and maybe life isn't such a bad thing; but deep down, don't you hate the mediocrity as much as I do? Doesn't it piss you off that you're so regular? I know it pisses me off. It makes me angry, and mad, and a little bit sad. Is 50:50 really so great? Is being happy only half the time really what I want?
I will wake up tomorrow with no sense of urgency. I will sit around for a little while, then maybe I'll hit the gym. I'll come home, also with no sense of urgency, as is the case with mediocre people, not lucky enough to be born in the 85th percentile, also not lucky enough to be born so blissfully ignorant below the 15th percentile; or maybe I can do just the opposite. I can wake up with more sense of urgency and fight my way towards the 85th percentile mark; the yardstick with which society uses to measure successful people. It's your call, sir.
