Tuesday, October 27, 2009

This is my happiness essay.

What is happiness? For me, with my sixteen years of life as my basis to define what it is, I think happiness is making friends, meeting new people, enjoying what you have, loving what you have, accepting what you have, enjoying what you're doing, being in a situation that you'll remember and laugh at later on, trying to smile, unconditional love, irrepressible smiling, having a crush, pursuing and finding success in pursuit, learning new things the easy way, witnessing something funny, sugar rush, and many other things. Basically, at this moment, happiness, for me, is acceptance, hoping, and believing.

I say that because those are the things that have made me happy.

Since happiness is subjective, or at least I find it to be so, I know that happiness, for me, is more often than not, ephemeral. It is spontaneous. It causes you to be so as well. It comes when you expect it and when you don't. It is more beautiful in the latter. Some people devote their entire existence to finding it. I think, though, that it is like a dog's tail; if it is sought for like a tangible object, it will not be caught. Some people make sad attempts at trying to generalize what it is. Some people write books on how to acquire it. Like a step by step program, cookbook style. Some people live life waiting for it. Some people observe how other people respond to the temptation to be happy. I guess, I'm part of those people, but if that's so, who observes us? Some people neglect happiness; they don't look for it, they doubt its existence. Some people try to find their purpose in the hope of finding happiness with it. Some people just live. Some people are always filled with it. Some people say they have found it. Some people think they have found it. Some people feign happiness. Some people try to know things to be able to know what happiness is. Some people try to justify their happiness. Some people buy things to become happy. Some people neglect being empty to be happy. Some people hide it. Some people write about its nature. Some people find other people, and happiness comes with them sometimes. I do all that, different approaches for different moments. Happiness is tricky thing, deadly as a drug, addicting like one, yet it is legal. It could be a state of mind, but it could just as well be someone or something.

Happiness may be all of that and more, some of that and more, or none of that for you. Nonetheless, this is my point of view, and I stand by my observations of what it is. If a boy had a box, happiness could be the boy's existence, the box, what's inside the box, the picture, the audience, non-existent, the imperfection of the picture, the lack of setting, and many other things. Thinking about these things makes me happy. I find happiness in being capable to feel. I find happiness in being real. I find happiness in things that assure me I am. I find happiness in things that will let my existence resonate through time. I find happiness in recognition; recognition of who I am, what I am, what I have done, what I have failed to do, what I became, how I think. I find happiness in the recognition that though I am imperfect, I am striving to become better. I find happiness in those who change circumstances. I find happiness in broken things, for they dream to be perfect, and they have a better story to tell. I find happiness in things that don't make sense. I find happiness in the presence of meaning. I am happy when I am not self-centered.

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