The void of my existence could not be filled by neither love, nor achievement. Compared to the vast emptiness the likes of all that could bring happiness shrunk out of proportion, until it deserved no consideration at all. No feat is important enough, nobody's love invigorating enough and the solution to the problem eluded me. My deep suspicioun- the problem was encoded in my very nature, eliminating it seemed impossible. However, if there is a phenomenon so persistent and beyond logic, it was my hope for improvement. This was the world's trick for keeping me in the race- the unmotivated hope which would wither with each disappointment and push me forward a second after to try again and again. I am forever moving, forever searching and never quite satisfied! What an ugly trick! My finite days on Earth are the only thing separating me from the perpetuum mobile.
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