What will it take to be happy in this world? I ask myself the question far less than I'd like to. Perhaps I actually do ask myself this, but in more subliminal messages, you know?
It is easy to be unhappy with what is right in front of you, because you've come so accustomed to it that you don't give a second thought about the good things in your life. I feel ashamed in myself to feel so dissatisfied with life, because although mine certainly isn't perfect, I can't help but skim over the relatively normal things that do exist within it. Why can I not embrace these seemingly normal things and just appreciate what I have? Will I always crave for more?
Human desire is certainly a complicated thing, and with that I dare to divulge in the topic. Is it a primitive instinct to want more than what you have? Or is it an indulgence that we have fed into as civilization has grown and advanced. For most first world citizens, our basic needs are met. Hell, our basic needs plus above and beyond have been taken care of. So why do we so desperately desire more than what we have? Why can't we be satisfied with what is already there? We are consciously aware of the fact that other people can barely find suitable water each day, struggling to get one good meal while the sun is up, and yet we still complain and groan at the fact that we are bored and hungry for something else. Our greed has manifested our society, and that in itself has caused a pandemic of dissatisfaction.
With my own dissatisfaction, I feel guilt. Again, I know that there are millions if not billions of other people in this world who make less than a dollar a day, have a day to live, or some other misfortune they have the burden of carrying.
But there are people around me who love me and I am so painfully brutal to each and every one of them because I do not know how to love and the only things I have ever loved have hurt me. People leave and they die and they disappear, but for some reason people really seem to be the best at disappointing.
I feel like I possess this trait... That's all I've ever done, you know? I've tried to be the best daughter I can be, but that hasn't stopped my mother from telling me that she is so alone and no one in this sick world can help her, and hasn't stopped my father from telling me that he is truly a good person and the sick twisted delusion of a world that he envisions should acknowledge this. I've tried to be the best older sister I can be, but that hasn't stop my sister's vicious threats and complete disregard for respect. I've tried to be the best friend I can be, but that cannot stop my best friend from criticizing a poem I wrote about a traumatic experience I had, saying that she didn't like the plot. I've tried to be the best girlfriend I can be, but that cannot stop my boyfriend from trying to reach out to me and only to receive white noise from the other end. Because I have taught myself that by trying to do something, I will only get scrutinized for it. Trying to achieve something is only an action that will lead to punishment. So why should I open up and tell someone else about it if I'm just going to get hurt once again? Is it that? Or is it that I am incapable of loving and opening up at all? I can't be the kind of person I want to be for yet another person because I am afraid of failure and therefore am incapable of loving. I cannot show affection anymore, because I can't show affection for anyone. It's gone, buried in my mother's alcoholism and self victimizing, my father's narcissism and manipulation, my sister's arrogance and harshness, my friends' inability to empathize and obliviousness. On top of it I've built walls and those may be opaque at times but never transparent. I will never let anyone see, much less open up about, the life I live and the things it has done to shape me into this harsh, impenetrable force.
And for this, I am sorry.
Why can't I be happy with what I have?
