How To Cope with Dissatisfaction

 

Dealing With Dissatisfaction: A Metaphorical Story

A Representation of Mundane Monotony's Poison

Why can't this be enough? Why was I born, lips parted ready to ask for more? I have an insatiable desire for life; however, I currently nibble on the scraps of my previous feast.  I grind my teeth on bones that pricked my fingers prior, wondering why I’m still bleeding. 

I look at the table set for me and ponder why I don't recall arriving in the first place. For when my focus descends and I stare at my fingers, I remember that my hands have explored this commonly basic table before. 

 Each cut, creese, and bruise reminds me that this is not my first day, nor last. That I am paralyzed in this dimension, doomed to respawn at the beginning of my last end. In my soul I feel the memory of words I claim to speak presently; nothing feels novel.  The DeJa'Vu threaded into my stitching binds nostalgia to every “first time”. 

I can't escape the tiredly predictable motion picture entitled “My Life”. I feel trapped in a movie theater that I’ve tried to rebuild countless times. If I set the theater ablaze, letting a match dance along the cracked leather chairs nothing transpires.

 You would assume you'll be met with a new smell, maybe melting leather; You assume to hear the distortion of my motion picture being embraced by fire. Sadly enough, nothing happens.  I exist in an indestructible prison that extinguishes the chaos of fire before the match is even struck. My world is hopeless and bleak, there exists nothing to appreciate or be grateful for.

I feel caught in a perfectly predictable trap, forcing my skin up against what separates me from an ocean of thrilling possibility. 

I draw my knife from my pocket, the knife that used to lay unused at my horrifically familiar table; I begin to cut. I force the ropes that constrict me to sever.  Falling freely and openly, or maybe harshly and dangerously into the potential below.  It rings irrelevant because this angst is better than my foregoing numbness.

Shocked by the freezing Uncomfortability of what I thought I wanted; I begin to thrash. I look above for the trap I used to curse and detest. The trap has vanished almost as quickly as my desire to be liberated. 

Arms weak and legs sore I begin to drown. 

I let the water take me, I don't fight, swim, or persist. 

I am drowning. 

But then I begin to remember, I remember how good it feels for warm summery sand to find solace in the crooks of my toes. 

I recall how a string of words and melodies coming together at once has the power to draw watery emotion from my eyes.

I reflect on how my body reacts to hearing the one I love to call my name.

Whisper, I love you.

I suddenly begin to float, force pushing my back to rise and chest to heave. Quickly I rise to the surface of the ocean with fresh air filling my lungs. 

 I breathe.

 I express my gratitude to be alive.

I rejoice.

As I triumphantly comb through the ocean's density, I feel my heart expand. Ideas flood my psyche and manifestations materialize. I dream of an Island to rest my aching head and before my very eyes it appears. I head to my manifestation Island and collapse upon the sand of my Imagery.

I lay in the sand.

The summery warm sand that finds solace in the crooks of my toes. I tense and release my toes letting the sand gather and drop. For each bodily movement I make, I allow gratitude to wave through my body in perfect harmony to the waves that surround my utopic Island. 

The gratitude I show towards the sand builds upon itself, before I know it music kisses the air. Leaving its mark in the form of the tear that runs down my sandy cheek. The music touches my soul and leaves it healed and appreciative. The appreciation sends chills down my spine and is only amplified when I hear my name called. 

The one I call mine joyfully reveals themselves.

 Saying the three words that bring me more peace than any other. 

I stay on the Island for a little while longer, I stay with the one I love listening to music that occupies space in my heart as well. The sun sets and casts an orange hue to warm my skin. 

Just as the sweet rhythm fades a table appears.

The table looks familiar yet unique, fully equipped with shiny gold and bedazzled utensils. I sit down at the table that was once painfully familiar, now seeing details I never paid attention to previously. 

I trace my hand along the wood lines and appreciate the beautiful mahogany table. What adornes the table is even more spectacular. 

Rich and tender meats and vegetables sit on silver lined platters. The smell of exquisite cuisine welcomes me to feast. 

I dine and clean meat off of bones until they shine clean.

I lick off supple and unblemished fingers, savoring the quality of my meal.

Nothing is leftover except bones and scraps, yet everything is appreciated.

I finally rest my legs and lean back on the chair, resting my head on the tailored cotton padding. My eyes urge me to sleep, and I listen. I allow myself to slumber knowing that I found the perfection I always dreamed of.

The next day I awake.

My eyes flutter open, and I visually take in my surroundings. 

I am at a familiar table, filled with nothing but scraps and bones. 

I pull out one of the bones and rest it in my hands.

The bone is kept balanced between my two fingers and I stare at it. However, this time instead of aimlessly trying to force the bone to give up more meat that it doesn't have; I appreciate the bone for existing at all. 

I establish my gratitude for the table, scrunching up the cloth and noticing how intricate and fine the complex white pattern is. I hold empty silver platters and admire their dense weight and quality. 

I lean forward on the chair, letting my elbows find my knees.

Clasping my hands and letting the weight of my chin rest on my knuckles. I smirk and feel my cheeks rise. As my cheeks rise so does the gratitude within my body. 

My appreciation comes in like ocean waves, suddenly I hear music.

The song is gorgeous and emotional, as I wipe tears from my eyes my gaze meets the one I love.

I meet his presence with a smile, and we join each other at the table. 

It isn't long before the table replenishes itself with every kind of fruit and delicacy imaginable. 

All I had to do was be grateful and appreciative for the blessings to come. 

Once again, I helped myself to a flawless meal, reminding myself that I would have to do it all again the next day, the day after that, and every day to come for the rest of my life. 

I sought beauty, so I saw beauty.

And since I see beauty, I am beauty. 

The only way to escape dissatisfaction is to be satisfied, regardless of what may be dissolving all around you.