I consider myself a lot of things, but happy is honestly not near the top of the list.
All of those are adjectives I would probably place next to myself if asked.
Frankly, Im not even exactly sure what that looks like or would feel like or means.
Of course Im speaking in an exaggerated manner.
I know my best-friend with his loving fiance and bloodhound puppy is a happy person.
I dont really know what that feels like.
My base level of existing is a 4.7 out of 10 on the happiness scale.
I honestly dont think Ive crossed an 8 since I saw an live orca calf in the wild.
I think I used to be a happy person.
Maybe like…five years ago I was.
I would walk my dog most mornings along a fucking river for crying out loud.
And if you had asked me then, I would have told you yes, ofcourseI was happy.
Like determined, methodical, and content.
And I like clinging onto things like my work, my solitude, my stubbornness.
I dont think so.
Maybe we dont all get to be happy.
And maybe thats okay.
Or maybe, its just my perpetual curmudgeon coming out and infecting the world with my supposed cynicism.
Whatever makes you happiest to believe is fine by me.
