Satisfaction as Disappointment

I went to the canteen to quickly buy something that would cheer me up. I saw this really Fudgy custard decadent chocolate some-whatcha-macallit cake in the freezer area. I scrutinized it and tried to assess the glossy appearance it gives off. I took my purse and bought a slice. I went back to my office, guarding myself from giving high expectations, but it still damn failed me!

The chocolate was far too digustingly sweet that it already tasted artificial. The custard tastes like a badly cooked, watery yema (literally looked like a pus). The appearance really didn’t look enticing and I just wasted resources and suffered yet another feeling of disappointment so early in the morning.

Ugh. This chocolate cake is the last straw. I'm beginning to notice that SMIPLE to MAJOR things/people/situation disappoint me nowadays. Are my expectations really that high? I know i’m not perfect. I still consider myself bearable. I always go for self-fulfillment rather than flowery words of comfort or status. I’m still a person who values thought and gestures than words or objects. I think I'm fairly generous. I even sacrifice to the extent of not knowing it, and I am FREAKING open-minded. Why is it that for the past few days in simple things like conversations, food or people I either get a homerun of disaster in every sense of the word that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel satisfied? I don't think I deserve that bad karma.

And to think that I'm SATISFIED? SATISFACTION is so not a complement. I cannot even believe I’m finding enough reason to use the word. That word as far as I’m concerned didn’t exist in my vocabulary until now. Being satisfied is the lowest of the low of being happy. Being just satisfied is an insult. It's same as “I think it’s okay, life goes on and better to have this than nothing at all.”

Pitiful.

You see, being disappointed is clearly not the best condition to find me in. I’m giving this a week at the most. I just hate the thought that comes with the series of grave disappointments. The worst part of it is that I tend to over analyze situations and piece things together until I inflate that huge balloon of reserve that I wish I would never have to pop.