Almost everyone that reads my ill-formed, unruly lines has
to say “why do you always write something sad? Why don’t you write about
something happy?” I can handle people pointing out grammatical errors or an
irrational connotation but pointing out my eternal loneliness and monotonous
life, well, take this passage as my response to those that probably haven’t
written anything in their lives.
I sat down finally, under peer pressure to write about
something happy, something delightful and it got me wondering what happiness is
to me? What is happiness to others? Moreover, what is happiness by itself,
without belonging to someone. So I fired up google and searched ‘happiness’,
google being the twisted, quirky ass it is responded with a very simple and
clear cut five-word answer ‘the state of being happy’. With that road blocked,
I google ‘happy’ and literally the first thing that comes up is Pharrell
Williams’ song Happy, funny. Realizing I’m not going to get any help
from google or that it has finally become that smart to study our online
behavior and display results accordingly, because I know I’ve spent hours
searching songs than googling abstract feelings such as love, happiness, etc.
I think to myself what is happiness to me, what makes me
happy, and to my surprise it doesn’t take me long to answer myself. Happiness
to me is the shade of the ever-blue sky changing colors to bid adieu to the sun
every time it sets and welcome it every morning when it rises, happiness to me
is my favorite tree in front of my house blooming to decorate my otherwise dull
existence, it is the feeling of my bare feet on the grass after it rains, when
cold water drops fall from up above finally rest on the delicate swirls of the
grass, it is the way an infant looks at me, scares the hell out of me, it seems
as though their tiny shiny eyes filled with curiosity can look deep within my
soul, see through my flesh and bones, sometimes giving me hope to go on and
about my life. It is the silence of the nights, the calm rustling of the wind,
it is the feeling of cold water going in my stomach on a warm dry day, it is
the crisp crunch of dry leaves when walked on. Happiness is the starry night
sky with the moon gleaming bright, it is a text from a friend when I’m down on
my knees. Happiness is knowing I’ve got amazing people in my life, it is the
smallest effort he makes for me, how he plays with my hair, how he makes me smile,
it is also how I love him knowing he’d never love me back.
Happiness is a warped, sick and a highly tempting illusion
that we have generated for ourselves to keep us from going crazy, keep us from killing
ourselves, to have a little order in this chaotic world, to give the people a
ray of momentary sunshine, until the world hits them again, and again, and
again, till they either give up or cease to exist. You say I don’t write happy
things, well in real life happy doesn’t exist just like fairies, dragons,
mermaids, genies and giants….do you see where this is going? I hope you do. And
even though I know it’s simply an illusion, it would never end, this is the
kind of deception that everyone yearns for, some die trying to achieve it but
fail.
Happiness is nothing but being satisfied with whatever
your ‘hell’ is, it is the mere acceptance of your ill fate, your ungodly conditions,
your empty life, your lowly stature and the plain realization of the truth that
you might live and die an ordinary life and it is the fact that that’s completely
magnificent in itself!
