Sometimes I want something.
But in wanting it – I realise that I don’t want it.
Everything about wanting that which makes me feel I need it – ceases – only for me to relapse, to crave the sensation of it, the wanting of it. Sometimes I just hate the feeling of want, not because I cant have it, but because it makes me like one of them – the sheep amoung us – wanting the same thing.
Perhaps whatever it is, its right? Because everyone else wants it. But I don’t know.
I shoud be satisfied I think that I at least have the temporary bliss of knowing for a time, that something is what I want.
But it is only short lived – though I think I’m think about things a little diffirently. Even though its not always what i think it should be.
At the end of the day – what still remains is this ….
I don’t know what I want.