Failure junkie

There was a time when I had learned the hard way that one has to enjoy every day they get to live and breathe. I had conceded that one has to appreciate every experience, be it positive or negative, to the fullest, and always get something [the most] out of it. It sounds like extreme motivational crap, but at the time I had reasons to think it was true. After taking in and spitting out all the anger and frustration, I had reasons to think for a while that I was the luckiest. I had dodged a bullet, so I needed not trip on the trivia, be unhappy or dissatisfied for the most insignificant reasons. Because then the significant stuff span in a completely superior sphere.

But of course that any experience, no matter how significantly good or bad, fades away with time. Did I hear someone say time heals everything? They were right. So I started to forget. And to calibrate the significance of all happenings to my current status. And now being confident that there is a tomorrow, of course I can make a huge deal about my nail polish chipping. Or a genuine drama because French does not stick to me once and for all.

Thus I went back to being an addict for failure.It's like running around in circles and always finding reasons to be malcontent, of course making everyone well aware of it and if possible also spreading a sense of guilt all over. It works like this. You think you want something, work for it, scream and shout. It eventually happens, but maybe not exactly when you wanted it or with some minor adjustments. Then you don't want it anymore, set your mind to having failed, just because, well, you can.It doesn't even matter if some things work out for the best, there's always something that does not happen just perfectly. And you, being addicted to dissatisfaction, will choose to cling to that instead.

That I complain a lot, well, it's common fact. People around me always try to remind me that there's some things that are not even worth complaining about. That I am selfish and should think about those who are really having a hard time before going all bitchy about some meaningless shit. I am aware of my selfishness, and I can even be sympathetic to other persons' misfortunes. But on one hand I cannot do anything to change that, and on the other I had my own share of big misfortunes. Now I just face my own small unhappinesses tailored to my small existence. Which are by no means less significant, which trouble me more than necessary, it is true, and into which I dive fullheartedly, like the failure junkie that I am.

Ça va? Hell no.

I grew older and fancier all of the sudden. I left behind the old famous pair question-answer "-How are you?-Fine" for the classier "-Ça va?-Oui." However, a trivial question is the same no matter the language. And lying, even if in French, is still lying.

The overcrowded trains that are always late and smelling funky, Ça ne va pas. Neither do the complicated subway hallways, forever scenting like piss.

The lilliputian apartments with see-through bathroom doors, Ça ne va pas.

People reaching a whole new level of inefficiency and rudeness, Ça, for sure, ne va pas. Likewise putting on hold the idea of making local friends.

Having to clench your teeth and force yourself to get out of the bed in the morning, not looking forward to anything, Ça, for sure, must be wrong. Always having the impression you are wasting people's time, but mostly yours, again, awkward.

Being sucked in by a completely messed up system, which drains away your positive energy and motivation, I must say, Ça ne va pas. Suddenly finding Africa to be an appealing option, what about that?

Despite of all the tasty pain au chocolat and sparkling tours, my honeymoon period is done. And I just learned the hard way that you cannot force any kind of love on people, and I am for sure not in love with this. So, just like I always answered "Fine" with a huge smile on my face or a nervous laugh, I keep saying "Ça va bien", even if it most definitely doesn't.