insipid

I always think I will find answers if I get to recluse to some abyss, meditate atop a high cliff or relax by the shore. The truth of the matter is I have precious moments of solitude every night and yet I find myself walking on the same path every morning after. I wonder if I am not listening hard enough, or that I haven't been serious enough in my resolve. At best, on a good day, I think: life is pretty good as it is, there is no need to change anything. But I am restless and I feel like I am stagnating. Day in day out, I tell myself that I want to live my dreams, I encourage people to pursue their dreams. Yet, where's mine? What's mine? I know not. Perhaps, I will keep on living my little world of drama that's played out in my mind ever so often. After all, I am not real. I am an illusion unto myself. I do not exist. What you see now will fade away..