I have, and I believe I always will be, happy. Nothing will change that, because I've seen things that try. I've tried, myself.
Yet the thought occurs that it might perhaps be because I've never let myself not be. As a kid (over a decade ago), once upon a time, I was always sad. I've been nihilistic, alone, tormented, and perhaps suicidal. I have been all these things despite my never having a reason to. I had friends, parents who loved me, girls even, but there was always some part of me that believed that maybe, just maybe, there was something more. I tried everything in progression. Every activity I knew, every sport, every hobby, every science I'd ever heard of. And despite my acquaintance and subsequent friendship with them, I have never found the one that made me truly... Satisfied.
This is me, letting go. For a minute. Literally.
Tomorrow you'd find me as I've always been, happy. And I realised that I wasn't faking it, despite my ability to. I am, happy.
Back to the story.
In the midst of my angst, something changed. The one that I realised I was looking for, I began to find in everything. And that's when I fell in love.
With everything. There's not a girl I've met that I haven't fallen for, not a breath I've despised, not a second of my existence I wouldn't give thanks for, were I to believe it a gift.
Once again for the cheap seats, I love my life, I love my world, and I wish you would someday find what I have.
