Innate Dystopian

After some deliberate contemplation, I’ve concluded that chasing perfection can lead you nowhere. 

Or let’s put it this way; seeking perfection in every aspect, and for now let’s say writing, will only take your farther away from imperfection and not to some utopian stardom you seek to achieve. Some would now argue that the lesser imperfect you are, the more perfect you are; I couldn’t agree more. But how less imperfect and more perfect can never be determined can it? 
I’m paying heed to some instructions, per se that was suggested from an ardent reader. It took me some time to convince myself and now I guess the change is rather obvious. 

No more of jargon. No more of over-the-top complexity in sentences. It’s boring and sassy, but boring nevertheless. 

Another interesting thought I came upon while I was comprehending my actions was how obsessed I became to flaunt my whatever degree of prowess in literature. I realised that there were two sides to a blog and I’m still undecided on where I stand. 

• There’s the type of blog which wants its readers to have the better say.
• There’s the type of blog written for the author’s satisfaction.

It’s an unequivocal claim when I say it’s more likely not that people would like to remain in the between of the said two sides. It’s also not too soon before I really decide in what way I continue to blog. 
So, just as this, all of us have certain utopian desires. But the sad plight of the nature of human activities is that almost unquestionably every unconvincing quest ends in a dystopian consequence. As in, you either end up impressing and satisfying yourself or the others around you. It’s as simple as that. 

People who say they can live both lives are those half-assed involved dimwits who’ve got no clue how to spend a lifetime. 

The undying, unsaid, ugly truth that I’ve learnt it, on the the long run, no matter what, you can either impress and satisfy yourself or others around you. Period.