There is NO Passion in Being Content
At the present moment I'm conflicted, torn, and disenchanted. I have family that I love, but they do not love themselves.
I am forever in search of something better, something to satisfy this urge I have to be better. I was once told that I will never reach that point because humans are never satisfied. We have evolved from ape to our present state, and that would not have been possible if we had reached satisfaction at discovering fire.
Then how can those that I surround myself with be so content with nothing more than mediocre? Average in every way, superb in only the ability to do nothing. She will never read this, but I will know that it was written.
Maybe I should reevaluate my circle...