Sometimes I feel the things I want to do are coming from a space of pure passion, but it doesn't take much for the same space to turn into a space of pure dislike, a prison of sorts. I have tried a lot of things to make sense of it, and when I say I've tried a lot, I am not kidding. I've tried to articulate the issue in clear and vivid form in my physical journal, I've read as many philosophical tomes as I could in search of perspectives that could explain this; and for what it's worth, I've also spoken to a sh*t ton of people about it. It is as if everyone is making stuff up as they go along and no one knows anything at all. Everytime I touch this subject, I end up with the same conclusion, that of change being the only constant and I must make peace with the transitory nature of all this.
In essense, the simple answer doesn't suffice or at least is not convincing enough, while the complex one is always near the horizon becoming more incomprehensible, more difficult, and more intractable.