I love a good complaint. Properly formed, it should leave a sweet and buttery taste in the mouth—with just a hint of mischief. To be malcontent is to expect more, reject more, and demand no less.
I believe beneath every malcontent is a frustrated optimist clinging to her half-full glass of dreams, while she patiently waits to throw the contents of that glass in the face of her oppressors.
I believe malcontents are made—not born—of mediocrity and artificial flavoring.
I believe that malcontents never look for the silver lining because they know that any cloud can rain on their parade.
I believe that malcontents are the happiest people on Earth because they are never too satisfied to appreciate a compliment.
I am a grateful malcontent.