happiness is my building of blues.
blue is pretty, isn't it?
someone asked me why i was unhappy in life, 5 days ago, on a breezy afternoon.
it is truly annoying when people see things in black and white or weigh them on a scale.
take for example,
unhappiness and happiness.
does being happy neccessarily make someone victorious?
does being non-happy neccessarily mean one is unhappy or depressed all the time? does that warrant pity or sympathy?
so what if i am wedged soundly somewhere in the middle most of the time.
yo, that is saying, i am just neither happy or unhappy.
must i belong to only either ends of this emo-churning spectrum?
other times, i am unhappy because i understand what makes me and how it is to feel despondent.
i laid down my definition for misery years ago.
and so,
this personal declaration slowly gives it body,
weight and most importantly, existence.
if i can comprehend it, feel it, smell it, lick it, touch it,
it is something humane.
and the best thing:
it never fades away.
in fact, this definition (and the long list of other definitions) becomes clearer,
like an iris unclouded.
now,
i have not define my own happiness.
therefore,
i am not entitled to feel or have a sniff of a "oh-glorious-oh tingly feely".
i am saying it exists but
it just does not now.
it is inhumane;
it is grosteque,
and i am searching for my special grosteque glory.
(and so what?)
but honestly,
that does not mean that i am unhappy or miserable all the time,
or that i should be happy because it is "bad", "sad" to be non-happy
or that i utterly adore swimming in angst and misery.
to set the record straight:
being unhappy just gives me ample time to build and define my happiness,
and being non-happy is time set aside for long, good naps away from "emo-subconscious-mad-ramblings".
so what's really up with having to be happy?
no work, no school, drifting, a failing satellite
don’t feel sorry for me, I’ve been happy too
manic, kindly, blinding, high-res euphoria
