Memoirs of a Master Control Operator

Reaching around, an attempt at a cuddle fails. I was better off fantasizing about it. Never thought I was that person, desiring human stimuli. But, here I am. Craving a unattainable feeling. More than not, we explain to ourselves ritualistically, that we are independent souls, floating where we want to be, not necessarily where we should be. Creating a world that has everything we have scoured together for a perfect fantasy, it's destruction is inevitable. We desire things we think we should have, that are "entitled" to us. Leaving that extra bit of sleep in our eyes has made our vision fragmented. Rather than force ourselves to experience people as who they are, we paint a tremendous coating of us on them, and project what we want them to be. Happiness cannot be found within a facade of ourselves.