Perhaps I'm being too much of a romantic, a "bohemian", for life today, ignorant and blind to the goodness in my life and the other good I will acquire and achieve, but I envy those around me who seem to have their motivation intact, and abundant at that. I hear them speak with excitement and fervor, bright eyed and propelled to do good for themselves. It fills me with their same feelings, but soon it wears off; it is only temporary. My joy was built, but there is no foundation. I do not have a foundation, as they do, so my joy crumbles. Maybe it's not as easy as I write it to seem, for those around me who I perceive as motivated. Maybe their eyes are simply open to the goodness around us that I cannot seem to see but for a few moments. Maybe their souls are just stronger than my own, able to wrestle and pin their desperate and untamed spirits. But I hope that's not the case. I want to be ignorant in my bliss, ignorant in my belief that everyone does find that inspiration, that muse, that pushes them to excel beyond their own limitations; pushes them to that promised land where they find their true life's happiness. I want to remain blindly optimistic that mine is out there, and if only I search a little further for it, I'll have it.
This isn't a cry for hopeful encouragement, or a need for words of faith from others, friends and family, who want the best for me. This is a question without a ready-and-waiting answer. This is a thirst for greatness. This is fear of a possible mid-life crisis, before the crisis. This is me worrying about my life before I've even begun to live it.