No Words for Happy















I would say that I’ve been writing for a really long time. I’ve written in plenty of diaries, journals, blogs, papers, etc. I’ve written on topics that I love and topics that I don’t really love but tolerated enough so that I could write a thesis on them to be graded.

For about as long as I could remember, I’ve been writing. I wrote a few short stories and poems that I’m really proud of. I’ve written a few th

ings that I absolutely hate and even years later, love the fact that I still kept it just so I could improve on it.

From what I’ve noticed though, most of my stories and topics surround my depressions or sad moments. It also brought to my attention that I have been really sad and depressed my whole life. If I have 7 different sources that hold my writings… there has to be a problem there.

Looking back on all of it, they all have a deep, underlying sense of unhappiness. So, I started to really think about those ‘happy’ moments in my life. I realized, the few that I did have, I didn’t write about.

So that lead to my next thought: Why didn’t I write when I was happy?

There was a moment not too long ago when I was genuinely really happy. I was just… in a good mood… all over happy. But, I didn’t write about it. I took myself back to that moment, and wanted to really write about something to capture it. I mean, why would I want to remember only the sad parts of life? Shouldn’t I have some happy ones in there too?

But nothing really came to mind. I couldn’t really describe happiness. I wish I could say it was a sense of peace, comfort, and joy but then I sound like a Christmas card. I could say that I feel all warm and fuzzy inside but then I sound like a Valentine’s Day card.

Even now, I can’t even really put in to words what happiness is like. I think the closest that I can come to is this: Happiness is a good cup of coffee.

While you might think that it would be easy to just trot down to wherever and get a good cup of Joe, you’d be wrong. Coffee is not made the same everywhere. A good cup of coffee, I mean, a really good cup of coffee… is truly hard to find.

Even if I did find that good cup of coffee that made me happy, I don’t know if I would be able to put in to words how it makes me feel. Perhaps happiness is just indescribable. Usually when I feel happy or content, I use the metaphor: Happy as a pig in mud.

That’s all I got.

But for sadness, I can unleash a whole encyclopedia of information and words to get my point across. With sadness, it’s very deep… or at least to me it is. I just feel it’s easier to describe. Maybe because I spend more days sad than happy.

Either way, I’m going to really start to think about happiness and hopefully try to write a little more about it when I feel it. I want to know and remember what it feels like, I want to re-live it again and again. I want to just get lost in the moment and smile. And so begins my journey to describe happiness.


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