Outside on a walk in the dead of night, I watch the moon as my favourite songs play. The melancholy gets to me and I become aware of my loneliness, as I sink into thought.
"I've been down a lot recently without a clear reason, feeling a strange emotion throughout the day that only strengthens at night. Not something harsh and painful, but an empty feeling that drains all of my happiness." Following the path of these thoughts I realize what I've been feeling is dissatisfaction. "I suppose I have reason to be dissatisfied as I haven't done everything the way I had hoped. I've made my share of errors, some of which are rather painful even with some years having passed." But thinking on further I decide dissatisfaction doesn't tend to come from the things you've done, but from those you haven't. "Sure I've made mistakes, but everyone has, that doesn't really bother me. However, there is far larger an amount of things I've left undone than I could ever hope to justify, and that is what haunts me."
I'd once heard a rumor that in life one must sprint just to stay in place. "Why then have I walked my whole life? I really need to pick up the pace, perhaps I could start that tomorrow." I've told myself that so many times, I can't even bother to convince myself I mean it. I know I don't. "Why can't I pick up the pace?" This question catches me off guard even though it was me who asked it. "I suppose the problem is I'm aimless. I don't have any goals." I've realized this before but have never been able to fix it since I haven't known what I want from life. A sudden noise breaks the silence and my thoughts collapse back down to reality.
My head turns to face the sound and I see some mallards huddling together in a pond far too cold. "I wonder how developed a mallard's thoughts are." I study the birds and begin to project onto them. "I wonder if mallards get lonely, I mean that one definitely looks pretty miserable and scrawny, maybe it hasn't gotten enough food." Nature is brutal and some animals just aren't fit to make it, which raises a whirlwind inside me. "I feel so incompetent and unfit for life, but at the same time know everything's set up for me to succeed." I think about how I'm the living personification of indicators for success. Well raised, smart, fit, have access to world-class education... everything, yet I feel inapt.
"Well I suppose I don't have many friends, though that's kind of a choice, I just don't find many people interesting." It's true, I get along with people quite well and have decent social skills. I get nervous very easily and have a tendency towards awkwardness, but even with that I'm a well liked character. However, I indeed don't have many friends, due to a lack of interest. This catches my attention. "How do I not find people interesting?" Truthfully, not everyone bores me, so I spend a moment pondering what it takes to raise my interest. "It's not that people have to be spectacular, but most are just far too... normal. I don't like simply meeting the status quo." I realize this has relevance to the self-reflecting I was doing before this mallard-induced tangent, so I switch back to that.
"I suppose I don't set myself goals because I'm scared. Scared of failure, not achieving them." It's true, setting goals enables failure, which can be quite painful. Then again, that's not really a reason to shy away from it. "I suppose not having goals must have worse consequences than failure."
As I near the street I live on, it finally clicks. I'm heading towards mediocrity, which is the reason for my dissatisfaction. "It's not that I have to be spectacular, but I do expect something from myself. I have something to live up to." I remember the treadmill of life and connect these two thoughts. "I'm dissatisfied because the treadmill is pushing me backwards faster than I'm moving forwards."
I approach my house and have one final thought before going inside. "I really need to pick up the pace, perhaps I could start that tomorrow."
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Finland • 21 years old