What motivates us? What makes us follow our thoughts through with certain actions? And what makes us stray from the ideals we dream to the base workings of our hands and bodies?

Why is it that people can dream, longingly gazing at the heavens, but usually can never act accurately upon those intentions? And who am I to judge?

I guess this is a thought that has long been lingering in my ever dusty mind. And today I felt like sweeping, hoping to clear up my confusion. Which is ironic in and of itself, because I often find that while sweeping moves granules around, it is not nearly as effective in actually clearing anything up. Somehow the dust, or at least the remnants of that dust, remain etched into my attic-mind.

I wish I could be a better person. I can think about how to be a better person, come up with plans and ideas and even actions which are not so difficult in theory. But it becomes more than increasingly difficult to implement those ideas into something useful. I can never seem to achieve anything I desire. I always fall amazingly short of any minimal goal I set for myself.

Inherently we are fallible, because we are mere mortals. Humans. That’s why we can dream up great ideals, great philosophies, and fail to implement them. But where is the hope in that? Why keep trying if we can never keep up; if we can never improve upon our many shortcomings–at least in this respect?  Though we may be able to come closer to our ideals, there must be some limiting factor–some asymptote which we can never pass.  And sometimes the more we try to be better people, the more we fail at doing so.
Why do I feel like, so often, we’re running and running and running only to keep standing in place?

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