I feel like hitting someone, each time I speak of something grand that I long to own, and they tell me “Think of the hungry and homeless and be content with what you have.” It’s like why would you want a grand piano and an array of musical instruments when you can have four walls, a roof and furniture to sit on? It’s like, what more could one want other than food, shelter and clothes?
I’m sorry,I want more. Yes I’m sure of it. I am not content and I doubt I ever will be.
All inventions, timeless music; all the greatest pieces of art and writing didn’t come from contented minds. Contented minds don’t sit in labs and test out one formula after another, a hundred times over. They don’t search for a cure; they merely rejoice that they don’t suffer from a worse ailment.
But they are happy; contented people. Oh contentment breeds so much happiness in life!
And I agree that life has a lot of beauty as is; but it is wanting too, in so many ways. And these ways keep me up many nights- thinking- things can be much better than this surely! And I suffer for this! I am unhappy for many days and when at last I get what I desire, it is never with fireworks and a crashing crescendo, but with a tiny warmth inside and the promise of better days. And this is what I live for; that possibility of betterness.
And so forgive me for not being content. I do want more out of life than what I have already acquired. If I must live then it is for the possibility of more, never less. Searching; not mere wishing. Whatever serves only to make me fall rather than help me fly, must be rid of. And I will have it no other way.
I will not be content.
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