I want to create something exquisite.

Hell, I want to BE exquisite. I want to do and feel and make. I want to weed through the meaningless iceburg lettuce and munch on the real and leafy greens. I want to never make a shitty metaphor again. I want to write. Long novels with no hesitations. I want to create that moment of perfect irony. Or that insightful painting with just the right mix of darkness and beauty that I strive for. I want to rise above the mediocre and bland. Just to walk on without planning my steps. Be a bum, a vagrant. Wander around. Try the whole "starving artist" bit until I get bored with it. Love all. Be amused by failings in others and in myself. I just want to stop feeling so synthetic.

For the most part this sounds enlightened and joyful.

It's really a cry of discontent.