In my vain efforts not to complain, an ill-conceived resolution I shan't be repeating, I find myself listing a series of observations on unfortunate circumstances and less-than-desirable qualities in others. In so doing, I have found I'm actually quite a keen observer of others' flaws. Rather good at it, yes.
I find, too, in a cosmic turn, that those with flaws seem to surround me, are attracted to me and seek me out, perhaps in their own vain attempts to meet the objectives of their own rashly stated resolutions. Shame or blessing, I can't be sure.
What I can repeat with certainty is that most of what comes from flaw comes first from want. Want is a wicked and failing quality, sure to end one in ruin. I should want to know how I can correct what is failing in myself. As I see want in others though, I find perhaps wanting so might pervert and lead to my even greater corruption.
I am a fool as it is. What worse could become of me I don't want to know.
What worse there is gives me faint.
My neighbor chooses racism and hides it after religion. Another would claim righteous for a child, souring his health with drink or drug. Is he the moral one? My own child walks away from me vapid, vacant, only until I lose interest. Then she is drawn near and he is careful with his words. There would you find a substance worth saving?
I'll have my day of this and then it will all return to its norm. There's no sense in the examination or sourcing, just as there is no sense in the object. We all want, ironically whether we want to or not - even if only in that we seek to rid ourselves of our wants by mastering them. Or feeding them. There is none of not wanting.
And in that we push ourselves, madly; it is a red haze. There are only blinking days of sun or field.
I should want to linger in those days endlessly.
And there it is again.