I got asked if I was happy and this is what I said:
But not the my-life-is-perfect or I-have-found-someone or I-do-what-I-love or I-got-life-figured-out kind of happy. That’s bullshit.
For one thing, happiness can be a fucking mess.
We’d either kill or die for the ultimate happiness. We meet someone or we find ourselves in a situation we think is so ideal it’s full of rainbows and pixie dust, and we’re elated, so we try everything to keep that, even when it’s not meant to be kept.
And then we get this immeasurable fear of losing someone or something that makes us happy at that particular moment because the feeling they bring us is just fucking amazing we get so blinded, sometimes even stupid.
It’s a life-long search, happiness.
It’s why we come across awful situation. It’s why some of us end up with the wrong person. It’s what keeps us up all night. It’s why we try to change ourselves — the way we look, the way we talk, the way we think. It’s why we laugh at jokes we don’t even really think are funny. It’s why we try so hard to fit in. Our thirst for complete, perfect happiness is what makes us settle.
I am not that kind of happy, at least not anymore.
I’m happy in a way that I’m fully aware my life can be crap one day and awesome the next because not everything will go my way. Not every day is a perfect day, but there are good ones, and that’s what matters.
I’m happy in a way that at three in the morning, I’m still up filled with regret thinking what I could’ve done better for my day, but then I fall asleep at god-knows-when and wake up to a brand new day.
I’m happy in a way that I know I may be laughing and chasing great stories one night while I’m out with my friends, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be home curled up crying over something I just can’t bring myself to figure out the next night.
I’m happy in a way that I know there are times when I’ll be sad and miserable and that doesn’t bother me anymore because that ounce of sadness and pinch of misery are something I cannot control.
I’m happy in a way that I’m alone but I get by because nothing beats the sound of silence, but I’m also happy in a way that I know I am not totally alone, because I have people I can count on when I’m ready to break that silence.
I’m happy in a way that I let all of my emotions to just flow; in a way that I allow myself to break down, to stay in bed the entire day not talking to anyone because I’m busy feeling things. I’m happy in a way that I can cry, and that is never a sign of weakness or a crappy life.
I’m happy in a way that I know when to let go, because not everything we have is ours and not everyone we meet will be with us forever.
I’m happy in a way that I still have no clue where I’m headed or what I’m supposed to do and that’s fine. I’m happy in a way that I get to figure out my own life bit by bit, day by day.
I’m happy in a way that I know I’ll never be content. There will come a point where I’ll be looking for something else that will bring life more meaning, or something that will give me more reasons to get up in the morning excited and determined.
I’m happy in a way that’s human.
I’m happy in a way that I know I can never be happy all the time, but I can be happy.