Wednesday, August 02, 2006

About being happy

I used to think there was something wrong with me if I wasn't happy. I used to think that the purpose of life was happily ever after. You know, meeting Mr. Rigth and and the rest doesn't matter. Of course I grew up and figured out that is wasn't as simple as that. But that bitter feeling of failiure always seem to accompain my hours of saddnes. Maybe that's why I loved so much an article by Coehlo I read recently. He says his life has not been abut findind happiness, but about experiencing new things.

But then I am left wondering, experiencing new things, living, to what end? We read, we learn, we evolve. But how does that help us in the end? Knowledge does not bring happiness, but sorrw. The more we know and the more we think, the more we are forced to awknoledge the limits of our nature.

Someone told me he thinks I am too aware of the world around me. I thought a lot about that. It's that I dwell on details. I dwell on the way something I discovered at the bottom of a cabinet killed the last grain of love. I dwell on the words of an e-mail that broke the hope a friendship, I dwell on a touch, on a phonecall. I wonder how it is to just live. To just go on, and not care, not wonder every moment how I could hurt someone's feelings, how I could do something to make someone happy, how my feelings are hurt, why I am not happy, how reading a book shouldn't influence me, how memories shouldn't make me cry. Then I try it. I try to ignore, to be on my own. I feel free. Not happy. Empty. Lonley.

This post has been influenced by "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro. Writing this I finally feel it's summer more now than when I went to the beach or sat lazy by the pool. Summer is about slowing down and taking the time to think, taking the time to read, taking the time to find who I have turned to over the last year.

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