As humans, happiness is our unspoken goal, the one thing that makes us put one foot in front of the other
But what happens when we are happy, when we’ve finally achieved all we’ve sought?

Do we write about the happy lives, the happy times, the happy moments?
Or do we wait for the screw up, the stone to trip over
So that then, and only then, will we have something to share, to immortalize forever
On paper, on the computer and show it to the world
Seeking companionship desperately once the trip forward loses focus

I have nothing horrid to say, nothing sad or depressing
In fact, right now, the only sad thing in my life is my crummy little car
And my dog pees everywhere

But my life is good, solid, happy
For the first time in years, I can’t sit alone and dwell on shit

It’s a nice feeling, one that’s been long awaited
And now fully appreciated

I think Jennyzilla put it best in saying: “The depression and anger follows from expectations that are too high to be lived up to. Life isn’t perfect. I trip, I stumble, I fall. The ones that are there to pick you up make the imperfections fade.”