Before I get to this, let me start by saying ‘no offence’ to those who might think I’m being too harsh or, better yet, too real. I’m bona fide writing this to spark some truth, not to defy any else theory.
“I choose to be happy”… surely no one would choose the contrary. In my life I have felt; happiness, normality and sadness. Sadness has been dominant that’s for sure. I may choose to be happy, but happiness is a feeling, it’s not an option.
When something is felt, it is not invited to be felt. Feelings go deep; they permeate the most confined spaces, they sometimes determine your heart-beat. Through experience, I’ve learned that you can’t force a feeling. Feelings are like time, you can’t control them. Life controls them. The different plights that you find yourself in control them.
I’m scarred and wounded inside; I will never heal, well not anytime soon. It feels like the world has spat on me and banned me from happiness: all the dirt, the sorrows and fears? They are too much. I did not choose this foul feeling, it chose me. You can analyse this the way you want, you can wear my sneakers and walk on them: you still wouldn’t feel how I feel. You still wouldn’t feel the anguish in me because of all the suicidal thoughts, you still wouldn’t look at people and make an almost accurate assessment of them, you still wouldn’t look into someone’s eyes and see their pain, which like flu ends up being contagious and spill on me. You still wouldn’t smell the scent of despair in this most filthy air that we breathe.
How do I choose happiness if I’m not even close to being happy? Do I seek counselling? ‘BUT WAIT UP!’ How will it help? By telling me to stay positive and that, things will work out fine? Tell that to the mentally retarded, tell that to those who are less motivated and gave up on life, tell that to those who are emotionally beyond repair…. those who have disfigured hearts, which bleed out and beat to an off tune heartbeat. Yes tell that to those people and then weigh out your success in thus doing.
Therapy won’t work on me. Just like rehabs don’t completely work on heavy addicts. To regain happiness, I would have to be happy for more than I was anguished, I would have to be overwhelmed by complete joy. To conclude my point: being happy and choosing to be happy, it’s two different things, they vary. If I choose to be happy, it would only be pretence, deep down? I wouldn’t be happy. The pretence would be to convince and console myself that things are on track and that this is just a minor hiccup… tell me now, who would be fooling who?
This was inspired by those whose eyes show me raw torment… They chose to be happy, but they aren’t. Don’t choose happiness, seek for happiness, don’t pretend to be happy, it makes it worse. It’s like a hidden wound that unbearably itches and you constantly scratch it with your finger nails and lie to yourself that it will heal if you keep on scratching it. NO! It will only bleed and it will not heal until you start acknowledging its existence and treating it like a wound. If being happy was an option, which sane person would be sad?