The regret of never knowing. The doubt that kills. The excitement which ended sooner than anticipated. Maybe this is just a process of adjusting to a new world. Or maybe this is just me trying to come to grips with reality. Happiness has never been this distant or seemingly impossible to grasp. Much of my life had been spent near great sources of joy, deep pools of inspiration. Now, apparently, I am longing for something creative. I am still looking for that jolt of life.
But I also realize that sacrificing my personal happiness for the benefit of the people I love is more important to me than anything else. And they are the only reason I persevere. This conflicting sense of purpose is slowly tearing me apart. Sometimes I find myself wondering and fearing the uncertainty of my future, and the future of the people closest to my heart. Why should I selfishly long for my own happiness, when I can find joy making other people’s lives easier?
Sometimes I ask myself whether the pressure, the doubts, the loneliness are all self-generated. The difficult questions always return unanswered like I’m playing a game of squash. No matter how hard I hit the ball bounces back. Am I facing a wall? Or should I be breaking the wall?
The truth is I am sad. I am sad because I cannot be happy. But I am also happy because I am sad for my family. It’s a sweet sadness that gives rise to a rough form of joy.
I am sad because there are somethings I might never know. But at the same time, ignorance is as they say, bliss.
I am happy because there is stability and I’ve found a place where I can pleasantly work my hours and earn my keep. But at the same time, pleasant is never enough.
But I also realize that sacrificing my personal happiness for the benefit of the people I love is more important to me than anything else. And they are the only reason I persevere. This conflicting sense of purpose is slowly tearing me apart. Sometimes I find myself wondering and fearing the uncertainty of my future, and the future of the people closest to my heart. Why should I selfishly long for my own happiness, when I can find joy making other people’s lives easier?
Sometimes I ask myself whether the pressure, the doubts, the loneliness are all self-generated. The difficult questions always return unanswered like I’m playing a game of squash. No matter how hard I hit the ball bounces back. Am I facing a wall? Or should I be breaking the wall?
The truth is I am sad. I am sad because I cannot be happy. But I am also happy because I am sad for my family. It’s a sweet sadness that gives rise to a rough form of joy.
I am sad because there are somethings I might never know. But at the same time, ignorance is as they say, bliss.
I am happy because there is stability and I’ve found a place where I can pleasantly work my hours and earn my keep. But at the same time, pleasant is never enough.
