Cynical

Some people never find what they are looking for,
whether it is truth or beauty or love,
searching but never finding.

I think I may be one of them.

Yes, I know I am young,
and the earth is still fresh and young,
I ought to be delighting in the prospects of each new day,
savoring life for all it's truth, beauty and love.

I am too young to be this cynical,
says my the voice in my head,
"There is so much you have not seen in this world,
to be so disillusioned is foolish."

But look,
so much of truth is dependent on lies we tell ourselves,
beauty is fleeting and fades,
life showing its wear and tear on your face,
leaving scars on your soul. And love?

Love.
An illusory concept,
do you chase after it, or wait for it?
Give or receive,
settle or reach?
How do you know,
how can you know?
Un-sureties plague the mind
and taint all well-meant actions and intentions.
When so much of one's own happiness depends solely upon another,
how can you breathe
without fear of suffocating the other?