Chameleon.

Its hard to find people who take just what you give, we are all needy miserable. Some want too less
some want too much. A peace, is rarity almost an illusion but we still keep hoping for it.And get sad when nothing close to it is achieved. People who are together for a very long time, are two disturbed people who have found the perfect balance of the amount they feed each other of themselves. Basically, a balance of neurosis  Our times are that of cracking-up and they have always been, because there is always an option for something better. Something nicer, something that makes a bit more sense, gives a little more love, expects lesser and asks fewer questions. But the fingers get pointed back to ourselves.

Don't we all have a chameleon soul, that once dreams of running away into a never ending road with strangers who are comforting. And then all of a sudden it wants to get married to that illusion of perfect someone, the one you read about, the one who reminds you of childhood and nascent dreams of innocence and premature lust. The road never begins and we keep struggling in bridging this gap between innocence and experience. A kind of experience that is liberating and conforming at the same time. A profane kiss, an illegitimate love affair, a corrupted affection and a hidden masochist; this experience that is the keyhole to a wretched yet exciting universe. But then we move back a few steps, and decorate our living room which looks like a promise of 25 years and more. A comfortable and sophisticated sofa, a medium sized bed, a sufficient dining table, kids like decorations and an evening in solitude. Is it a choice, or a great illusion of one.

There is a gift, that very few of us have. There is a great struggle that preludes to this gift. Gift of peace. These men and women have found the bridge and a companion to build a cottage with on it. These lucky ones learn to love without consequences. They greet people from both side with warmth and respect, maybe because they understand the anxiety, or maybe because even their abode is not satisfying and misery of these travelers is comforting for them. Maybe happiness is settling for the illusion. Think of the ideal in your head that can never be fulfilled, think of the burden it might have brought, and then maybe watch television quietly at night, so your partner, who is capable to sharing the loneliness, doesn't wake up.

But, after all the talking, I feel like hugging someone. Hugging is so comforting, if its the right person.