Perfect

Do you know the feeling when after a period of intense work, stress and exhaustion, after spending countless nights wishing that you would get this piece of assignment done, and when it is suddenly over, you feel not relief that it is behind you, but a tiny bit of emptiness gnawing at your heart alerting you to the fact that you have absolutely nothing to do? And if you have this experience, and if you hate it like I do, then retrospectively, it would mean that we actually liked the stress and exhaustion back then, to some extent.

Or it could be just that we like neither feelings. That seems to be much more plausible, considering how humans seem to be beings that are never contented. If we like someone, we would think that this person is perfect if not for some a-factor. If we are enjoying ourselves at the moment, we would think the moment perfect if not for the nagging piece of undone work at the back of our mind. If we were the richest person on earth, it still wouldn't be perfect since we don't have eternity to enjoy our riches. There are always some if-nots in the way of perfect happiness, enjoyment, what have you.

Plus it sounds ridiculous, at least to most people, to claim that you are enjoying yourself perfectly at any one moment, particularly if it happens that the moment is just a simple affair of sipping from a can of tea. You don't know the meaning of perfect enjoyment, that's what these people would say if you were to be so irresponsible as to proclaim your enjoyment to them.

What then is perfect enjoyment? Maybe that is what comes when you get every odious piece of work out of the way, when you have every conceivable pleasures awaiting your whims, when you have everyone sincerely loving you, etc. But maybe, just maybe, at the end of it all, there is just this tiny bit of emptiness lurking, waiting quietly within the recesses of your heart for this mythical state of perfect enjoyment.