Les Misérables
a woman over half a century old said to me recently that an indispensable part of happiness is to be without some of the things i want and hence, i will never be genuinely happy. her words struck me deeply. don’t get me wrong, i’m not offended or anything. i was just taken aback she would make such a bold statement when i barely knew her. i think about many things, everything, yet i’ve never given much thought to happiness. fyi, “lovey-dovey-happily-ever-after” does not constitute genuine/true happiness. i’m referring to simple pleasures in life in this context. i tried so hard to recall in a bid to challenge her statement to prove her wrong, but much to my dismay nothing came to mind. absolutely nothing at all. not even one mere incident. as much as i hate to admit, she might be right. i am never genuinely truly happy. contentment doesn’t run in my blood. i’d rather choose to be unhappy just so i can have everything i want. my readiest desire is my path to what i call joy, even if it destroys me. i’m beyond salvage. i’m a breathing corpse. but just so you know
