Happiness is a tricky emotion. Some times all you need is a good hair day whereas some times it could be your birthday and not getting a particular call can wreck your world. You could have dreamed of something all your life, yearned for that one moment when you get to feel it in your grasp, waited for the day it is finally within your reach only to get tired of it minutes after you finally embrace it. Is it always just the thrill of the Chase? Then how do know if you want happiness just because you don’t have it yet? What happens once it’s yours? The pleasure lasts only so long as your attention span. The minute you think of something else, *Poof* it’s gone. I don’t know much about being happy. But, if you want to feel good, I’ve got plenty of reasons:
1. You’re still alive, right now, you exist. You get to experience every aspect of life regardless of if it is good or bad. It’s all equally epic if you open yourself up to it.
5.Seriously you have Internet you can do anything you want!
Cheer up! 😀 Have a great day. 🙂
To be stopped and once again revived, the mind is not as patient as the heart. Hope is more comforting than intelligence when struck by a poison dart. During the wait to be brought back to life there are a few things that just make you wonder.. Is each minute a funeral march to the grave or a brave stride towards a rightful destiny? I should hate to lose myself in the fulfillment of an untold prophecy. Regardless, I lie here, awaiting my calling. A century long slumber, in a haze between flying and falling.
Death isn’t knew to me. It’s one of my oldest memories. I watched my grand father as he breathed his final breath. He wasn’t scared. I recognised nothing but acceptance and peace in his face. In that moment, it dawned on me. That’s the goal. To die a happy man. And live with no regrets.
You’ve lived a good life if those who wish you weren’t gone are greater in number than those who want you dead.
Die in peace, if there are people out there who hold on to the little things you said.
Today, tomorrow, may be years later.
You will be gone. Not to a better place. Just gone; without a trace.
If life is nothing but a story, just make it a good one, right?
-Sincerely, The Obsessive Writer.
Every night, we meet in a recurring dream.
Making new promises, to redeem.
Your eyes locked on mine,
Our fingers entwine;
Two hearts beat as one,
All the masks are undone.
I couldn’t walk, but with you I fly.
Amongst the stars setting fire to the sky.
He fills up my drafts
Unfinished thoughts that haunt my soul.
They drift around in an ocean of their likeness
Waiting to be turned into masterpieces of perfection.
Blinding flashes of joy and nerve wrecking misery,
All wedged into flimsy pieces of paper.
I stand in the eye of the hurricane.
My storm of endless musing,
The bittersweet catastrophe of my choosing.
Lights on. Centre stage. Crowd cheers. It was his golden age.
They believed in his magic.
Curtains close. Only he knows.
And the politician stepped off the dias victorious yet again. “The freebies get ’em every time.”, he thought.
A thought, that’s all it was.
Away it hid as soon as it came alive.
Every now and then you could see it, a frail silhouette in the dark.
Stealing glances out into an unknown spark.
Sometimes asking me, begging you, for a few words;
Words to set it free.
Words to wear so from the heart it can flee.
Making it out through the lips and into the wind with glee.
A mere feeling, that’s all it was.
Like the warmth of the sun or the chill of the rain.
An unspoken emotion, neither joy nor pain.
Simply reminding me, I exist;
Voyaging through new, lonely paths with moments of sunshine and mist.