Obsession
It seemed like everywhere he looked someone had the newest device, trendiest clothes, or were some mega-fan of some group or other. To him it seemed pointless and exhausting.
He didn’t center his image on the opinions of others, and he enjoyed things, but his existance didn’t depend on them. Such flaws could be dangerous, and he much preferred simplicity.
He’d been called cold and distant multiple times, but he didn’t fall apart at the first sign of trouble either. To him it was practical. To others, he was joyless.
Still, he supposed it was a flaw in human nature, but he wanted to feel that rush one time. To feel his heart pound with excitment and love for that one thing. But, nothing stirred him, so he remained set in his ways.
He was happy with who he was, but was he happy? It was hard to tell, because he’d always been this way. And then a realization hit him like a thunderbolt–he was no better than the rest. In his drive to remain different he’d become what he’d never wanted to be.
His one thing was not being obsessed with anything. The notion was absurd. But, he couldn’t deny it. A weight vanished from his shoulders, and a door opened to a whole new realm of possibilities. Life was what he made it, not what should and shouldn’t be.
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