2 Jun

We crib when spring doesn’t come early enough. When it does come early on one offhand chance, we crib that we didn’t have a longer winter. We crib when flowers bloom too late. We crib when summer’s here, when the rains arrive, when the customary thundershowers show up. We crib that it’s hot, cold, wet, humid and dry. We crib that we’re thin, fat, short, stout, round, skinny. We crib when we have frizzy hair, straight hair, short hair, scant hair and healthy hair because it’s not healthy enough. We crib that younger generations pretend to know too much and older generations know nothing. We crib when the power’s out or when the skies turn too grey. We crib. We crib a lot, don’t we?

We’re never happy. Happiness has become so transient, so short lived, so brief. Satisfaction so temporary. Contentment almost extinct.

We’re so unhappy with the way we are, others are, the world is, the state of affairs are. We’re dissatisfied and always wish there were alternate routes 1,2,3,4,5… There’s never going to be enough. There’s never going to be a cap. There’s never going to be a limit, is there?

When did we get this way? When did we get so unhappy, sad, broken? When did we need constant reminders in the form of Facebook posts every single moment of every single day to hold on, to smile, to believe? When did we get that hollow and empty?

Love’s a cynic’s paradise, hopelessness a broken soul’s delight. And we’re scared. So scared to lose, so insecure. When did these tables turn?

-Someone who believes in happiness, still. I think.


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