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Sucker

2009-08-29 11:25 p.m.

I look upon my friends and find happiness, but not explicitly. As their happines provides elation, but only for a moment. It's not transfered. And when seeking my own comfort, an emptiness remains. I remain a fan of the happiness around me and show a smile to advertise as such, but my own searching continues.

I want to relate, but generally feel I lose a small portion in the effort. I've gone beyond pride and stubborness. I reach out, but the attempts at reaching back are pitiful. Compromise is simple, it's understanding the purpose behind the compromise that I haunts me. I do my best to understand, but I don't feel my efforts are met. Inherent selfishness is taking a toll.

Am I to beleive that I'm the only jaded-yet-still-romatic left at this age? It's obviously arrogant and smug to think such a thing, but the results are splattered across my face time and time again. Why bother with sincerity when it's met with unrelenting cynicism. Has noone made it beyond their twenties without a sense of passion?

Am I the only sucker bored of cyniscism?