Lately I have been feeling happy, and I treat this new found feeling with much apprehension. To put it delicately I am not someone you would think to describe as naturally airy or jubilant. I am well aware that even under the best of circumstances that my nature seems to be predominantly misanthropic and that my tongue posses a cutting quality; yet for reasons I am only beginning to understand I am feeling happy. Now I should admit that in the past I have been besieged by the fleeting touch of grace only to have prolonged visits from my black dog, despite the seemingly normal ebb and flow of my moods this new found happiness seems to have a lasting quality. This quality troubles me greatly, and that might sound foolish to some but it is an alien feeling to me and its very nature troubles me. If prior to this moment my world view has been based on the assumption that no good shall ever come to me what would happen if I just briefly thought good could occur and happiness was more then a cruel dream. What would happen if that fragile seed weathered a storm and burst through the soil and began to sprout? What would I do next knowing that my every assumption on the world and its workings had been based on error?
I feel as if I have endured as much suffering as a person can, and I have made the choice to no longer define myself by my ability to suffer. There is so much more to life then just enduring there is existing to the fullest potential of human endeavors, and more important then that there is laughter and love. This isn’t to say that I have been completely devoid of joy in my life, but rather I have found it far easer to wallow in the shadows, and anyone capable of introspection would know how foolish that actually is. It is a far easier thing to give up and bemoan the fate that is delivered and much harder to pick oneself up and try again. Perhaps I have never really picked myself up, but I can no longer endure the life that was and that seems like a start for a more lasting change.
I had no stomach for being vulnerable, and many people I think would begrudgingly admit they feel that way as well. Who every really wants to expose themselves to hurt, the thought alone ties my stomach into knots, but by encasing one’s self in a ill fitting suit of armor what is actually gained. I think the answer is nothing, and I can finally say that I have been emotionally craven for much of my short life. As much as I admit to wanting love I can think that I am far way from that goal due to my own short sidedness. I could weep at all that the things my stupidity has lost throughout the years. I could feel overwhelmed by every fair thing I had let slip through my fingers but that does no benefit and as I said earlier is far too easy a trap to set for one’s self. Instead I think not of what was but what is and everyday is a second chance.
The world is only as mundane as we make it, and I can’t be the person I was for a second longer. The sort of thinking that possessed me leads only to a life unfulfilled; sadness, and places darker then I would want to travel. I have made my peace that my trip might always remain one of solitude, but I remain optimistic that eventually it might be joined by others. I remain hopeful that much music, mirth, and joy will sprout into an everlasting spring in the vastness of my heart. I know this will happen because I am searching for it, not waiting ideally for life to make a move. I know this will happen because I am making myself vulnerable, I am letting myself get destroyed, I am willing to pick myself up again and try again. There is so much love and joy in the world, right in front of us every single day, and all we have to do is reach out and touch it. The first step is terrifying, but once taken the rest is easy.
Youth is wasted in on the very stupid, and I was very stupid for a long time. I hope this isn’t a passing phase, I hope that I never loose sight of how beautiful this world really is, and I hope that the spring in my heart endures eternally.
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