The Cynics Creed: Thoughts on a Train.

We're all waiting.
Waiting for the Moment in time when life gets easier, gets perfect.
When we've arrived.
Perfect job. Love.
There exists a Moment on our heads when we're finally there.
The place of our dreams.
It might be a house. A person. A job. Not having to work?
A shit ton of money in our pockets.

All of us have a Moment in our head when it's worth all of this effort.
This stress and worry.
This pure unadulterated anxiety of living.

You get older and strangely that Moment, which you thought would draw nearer with success/accomplishment/experience in your skin living YOUR life, gets farther away.
It's more like an imaginary desert oasis and less like graduating in only 4 years time.
Like being caught in the web of grad school, being forced to revise that damned paper one more damned time.

Along the way resignation sets in.
You start medicating.
Movies. Books. Relationships. New job. More money. Drugs. Alcohol. Religion. Children.
Any thing to fool yourself you're closer to being there.
Being in your Moment.
You start to understand less about why you're actually here in this place.
Like the chimp behind bars at your local zoo, you deal.
You adjust.
You settle.

You face the facts that a vanishing horizon and your Moment are one and the same.
Then you take comfort in your cage or throw shit at the passing tourists looking in on your life.
This is living.
This is growing up.
This is the secret sadness to being an adult.
When the candy coating has faded and you're left sucking on a rock trying not to break your teeth.

Of course satisfaction and being content are the only cures for this disease called waiting.
Being happy with what you have, no matter the situation, longing...but not too strongly!...for something better.
To be better.
To do better.

All for the end purpose of someday achieving your Moment.
Winning the mother-lovin' lottery of your life and truly, soulfully, metaphysically, chemically, arriving.
Arrival.