If you are hopeful, why can’t you be happy?
Look, I wish I could explain to you why I haven’t spoken to you in such a long time – I mean why I have not gut wrenchingly smudged my bloodied truthful soul out on the page for the world to read like I used to. The problem is that people don’t give a shit about happiness. I mean, your parents do if you’re lucky like me, perhaps your best friends or – if you’re really lucky – a random stranger or two. But the fundamental truth of this world is that when it comes to emotions we thrive on the adversity and anguish experienced by others. We do not want to hear about your sunshine and roses, because we have all become bitched by a life that has long since forgotten to go easy on us. If you have a moment, a single strand of happiness for even a blink of a second, you grab onto it and it becomes this atrociously elaborate memory that in the end you use as a measuring stick for the rest of your happiness, knowing you’ll never be as happy as when…. and therefore even that happy memory becomes a dark and twisted one.
Let’s face it, we are desensitised. We are the generation that lives by the motto ‘I’m sorry, the fuck I gave went *that* way.” We are blaze and brandish life with our own fist-in-the-air shouts from a screaming skull. We do not have much sympathy for anyone because we predict our own pain to be far worse, far more intense, than those of our neighbours. We hear about the most tragic and mind shatteringly awful world events as they are happening through social media, but so what? Do you really take a moment to stand still and ask the hard questions? Do you really take the time to stand still and realise how great your life is, even when you’re going through a bad time.
I keep thinking about my own past after a year of seeking help for my mental state of a mess. When the dust settled and the worst of it passed, I felt ashamed for having been so hung up on certain issues in the first place. Now, do NOT get me wrong, when I was in it, when I was in my self-created pit of destruction I cannot begin to tell you how dark my thoughts got. I cannot even get myself to admit how bad it got there for a while, but I think perhaps it escalated past the point of reasonableness and necessity because I refused to see it in any other way.
I am not here to say you should get over it, but I am here to suggest it. If this message reaches you, I am here to say that perhaps this is not the end of your world. Perhaps you need to get up, have a shower, slap on your favourite outfit and go out there. Free your mind, face the facts. Life is shit, but so what? Face the world with happiness in yourself and knowing that you’ve made it this far, so fuck what they throw at you. You may be a lonely, pathetic, miserable mess right now (sorry about that) but no-one said you cannot stop and feel awesome anyway. The world has made it desirable to be depressed, and it certainly does not have a lack of examples for why this may indeed be a legitimate state of affairs, but you know what? You are human. Human invariably means you will be a mess. Human also means that you have the innate ability to be hopeful, inexplicably hopeful. To experience happiness to the fullest extent. I do not know who told us we’re meant to be sorry about that, but I for one have never been the obedient kind. So I’m sticking my neck out there and defiantly saying that from time to time it is quite alright to say it is going well…and really mean it.