I love my life. Almost to a disgusting, awkward degree. I love my love, I love my love’s kid, I love my love’s cat, I love my job, I love my career, I love my sister, I love my nephew and my mom and my nan. I love where I am and I love what it took to get me here. I love where I want to go and I love that I get to choose my path, I even love that I don’t get to choose the obstacles I will encounter on that path. Sometimes my heart swells so large that I can barely contain it.
And sometimes it all feels so wrong.
Being happy is not a natural state for me. It is something that I fought long and hard for, I cried, I hurt and sacrificed, I fought and planned and tried and tried and tried, sometimes in spite of myself, often against everyone and everything I knew.
Life is hard, yo. Happiness is supposed to be in moments, in things, in possessions, and in everything that is beyond our reach. Deep down in your soul happiness is not supposed to exist. What about when something bad happens? What if you fall? What if you get laid off or dumped or you have to leave everything you own? What if your dad dies or your sister loses her baby or your lover tells you you’re not good enough or your brother thinks your stupid? Can you still be happy then?
I can’t speak for anyone else but, for me, the answer is a resounding yes. Yes, you can. I am.
And it is amazing.