waxin' lyrical

Hello, world

So here I am, a little older, probably not that much wiser. I'm done with formal education (for now), have been a Productive Member of Society(TM) for the past 9 months or so, and spend my days and nights huddled over liquid crystal screens that drip feed me information, entertainment and communication. I share a somewhat cluttered apartment with the girl I love and Xephyris, the three of us forming our own little dysfunctional family. All in all, life is pretty good. Or at least, it should be pretty good, right? I'm my own man in my favourite city in the world, surrounded by the people who love me, having more than enough cash to afford my occassional (and some, Xephyris included, might say, frivously extravagant) indulgences.

What more could anybody want?

I've never been good at being content. There's a part of me, a little hollow part that always aches for more, always hungers. Behind every ridiculous goal I've set myself always lies the hope that "With this, I'll be done. With this, I'll be happy", and yet once acheived, the goals that took so much to acheive look less like badges of honor or trophies to be displayed, and more like toys put on sale to make space for the newest action figures. There's also the period of anxiety and confusion in the period between when I've finished one goal and have yet to decide on my next - those days drag on for me as I ponder "Well, what now?"

I don't know what now.

Scarily enough, I really don't. I really don't.