Guilthy.

What prevents a man who built a house in a lovely place to leave it and to go build another one lovelier place?

Is it comfort?
Is it status quo?
Is it the fear of losing what he has already got?
Is it the fear of not regain it?
Or is it wisdom? Or foresight? Or cynicism?

Or is it... Love?

I plead guilty. Sometimes feelings beat thinking, and nothing can be done against it.

So what is it? What should it be?
An endless race to the best, leaving everything else behind? Leaving the former best?

Or should it be a smooth cynical cakewalk where a blind eye is turned to every bettering opportunity?

Timing is everything.

Let's get opportunistic, cause after all, this is the way it works.
Why would I choose pointless suffering?
Let's take the easy but not-so-easy way.
Wait, is there actually an easy way?
Both choices are cowardice. The cowardice of not choosing the other.
But happiness rely on truth, not on avoiding unhappiness.

But what is the true? Do I really want to move my home in a lovelier place?
If the place is lovelier, the answer is in the question.

Well, fuck.
After all I'm just a man.
Let's explore this other place, let's see what it is, let's see if it's as lovely as it's said.
Maybe what is said is true, and I would build a house there.