What it means to Fly.

I looked out my bedroom window last night. It was quiet, no cars passing by, no one walking around the neighborhood. There wasn't even a cat in sight. The skies were dark blue, vast, with patches of cotton candy clouds, and staring beyond the gaps of the fluff, a glance into infinity.

As I walked into the office this morning, it was still dark, the lights on the buildings down below visible, trails of headlights glimmered on the freeway in the distance. Silence.

Both times, the same thought crossed my mind. There is definitely something more than what I'm going through right now. Something better, something more exciting, something meaningful, something touching to the core. 

Some may say "just be contented with what you have". Others "you're already better than many others!". While I say: Why are you so contented, if you know you can achieve greatness or greater things, shouldn't you be sprinting after it? Is there a ceiling to how much expectations one can have? 

Expectations. My biggest stumbling block. But why? Is it because I know I can or am able to meet the highest standard you impose on me, and therefore assume that you should be able to likewise? It's not as though I'm reaching for the stars. I've been repeatedly disappointed to the point where I think it's time my expectations be lowered. How is it to be done, this lowering exercise? I have no idea. All I know is it's going the other way. Which just means that I'm in deep s***. Because no it's gotten so high no possible normal human being will be able to reach it. How now, brown cow? 

I almost sound like I'm having a mid-life crisis. 

I guess the genius answer would be, you either stop being a normal person, or I'll have to deal with it myself and probably wither off with the nagging questions of whys and what ifs. Can't find a reason to be happy in my heartache, cause I should know better than that. #joshgroban