Memories And Memoirs

Happiness

What does it really mean to be truly happy?
Is it to give up everything we have to another and to live as if we own nothing and nothing owns us? Or does it mean to have everything and pretend like we have nothing to strive to attain more each day?

Is it to pretend like nothing affects us and hence nothing can take away the little we have? Or is it to find joy in whatever we do, to make sure that the joy we hold comes from nothing material but what lies within.

Happiness.
She is a strange friend.
You can see her even on the darkest of days but she runs away even on days which are the brightest. But you'll never know why she left nor why she appeared when you least expect her to. Yet whenever she visits, it's a beautiful feeling.

But yet, you turn her away when she arrives. Because you feel like you do not deserve her. Like the entire world has to stand against you. In sickness and in health, as if she hasn't appeared in the form of any human being you've clinged on to with all your life.

Yet, you are a hypocrite because you turn her away, you tell her "you do not deserve to see the way I am" even though she has known you in flesh and bone. She was in the light in which your mother bore you into the world. She was in the air when you celebrated your first birthday. Yet you turn her away because she chose not to appear in front of you in the form of that one person.

She knows you. And yet you say "go away.."

But, she will come back. For as long as there is light in day and the moon at night. For as long as the birds sing their songs. Because she is everywhere watching you, but will come out when she knows you will need her.

You can only humble your plea, next time you see her, just ask her to stay that's when you'll know what I mean.