For a couple of days I was trying very hard to beat back the sadness with a stick. It was a very real battle and I invested a good amount of energy and resources in finding weapons. I wrote, I drank, I smoked weed. I surrounded myself with people, I kissed, I flirted – I danced recklessly with my sadness, trying to shake it off by the sway of my hips and the stamp of my feet.
It was that state, in-between waking up and still being asleep that my happiness returned. It was in a thought. Anything is possible. Anything can happen. Suddenly I believed it, and my happiness returned like an old friend and I remembered the songs that made my heart lighter and I found myself dancing on my own with a smile on my face.
My happiness is now peppered with moments of sadness, rooted in nostalgia and clearly identifiable fears of loneliness, but it’s getting less and less and the happiness is feeling fuller and thicker, like a grandfathers over-worn cardigan – perfect for winter.