Happiness has been on my mind almost constantly lately. How it looks different for every person but has this very general label we all are chasing. The pursuit of happiness. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a facade. Actually the past two years or so I was almost completely convinced that it doesn’t exist for anyone; we all just fake it to each other and ourselves and some people are better at it than others. But I knew a chick in high school that I was mean to because I envied her persistent, authentic happiness. It drove me crazy. (Sorry Hydie)
For some people it’s being able to travel, for some it’s dancing in a club, for some it’s being a parent. For some people it looks like a deep connection to their faith. For some people it looks like having a lot of followers, or a lot of shit. Material things. For some people it’s having a lot of sex, or food, or drugs. For me, it’s a lot of love.
Someone once said that they believed I am the kind of person who will always be in love. I at first was kind of taken aback because I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly independent person, but I realized soon that they were right. I’m a romantic, and a depressive one at that. Love is the best thing I have ever felt. A real true connection with someone is so fucking rare and I have had it in my life and it is the most wonderful. For me it’s completely consuming.
But you can’t chase love. You can’t just make it happen, it does not come easy, it will not give way to force or pressure. It either exists, or it does not.