When I was young, I wished for happiness, even though I would have been too young to know the difference and the matter, I still knew that I wasn’t happy. I still knew with the kind of unwavering stubborn belief that children fist their grubby,chubby hands into, I knew I wasn’t happy. The doubt that maybe it wasn’t for me began when I turned ten. The year my father stopped talking, The year my mother cried in front of me for the first time. The year I learnt what growing up meant and I hated it with a passion I didn’t even live with. When I turned fifteen, my father stopped trying my mother stopped trying, neither cared any more. The effort it to took to be faithful to their mediocrity to be obedient to disatisfaction and disapointment didn’t leave them anything much to spare for me. My sister grew up lashing out, livid with hatred at circumstance or at the lack of it I know not. I grew up molested, pale and lonely, at funeral sides, at a school where you were taught to lose with almost saintly dignity, at the other side of the door listening to the arguing voices, at the dreams that died, at the castles I built in my head, I grew up. The insignificance of my existence was glaring, I woke up to it every day I closed my eyes every night to it. I grew up baffled by the pain baffled by expectation maybe I know not but I grew up. The things we read, The things we watch, the things we feel are never ours alone, ours to claim, but as sly as deceptive as they are, they leave us changed, changed for the better or the worse I know not, but changed all the same. The day I left home to study more was the day I un-learnt everything I had learnt eighteen years of my life. I broke me, everything I was prior I shattered it into tiny, miniscule pieces for then and then only did I understand I knew nothing and from there, from that point I began my life.
The day I understood the inevitability of happiness was the day I saw the ocean. I cherished it, hugged it close for the first time ever I was happy and it was mine alone, nobody had anything to do with it, nobody had mattered to it except me and the ocean, everything else ceased to exist. I sat at the tip of the boat, the dolphins beneath my feet, the water crystal blue alive with secrets untold with stories unheard, the sun beamed triumphant and I sat silent basking in life, happy. The blue whale shy and kind snatched a glimpse of us and entreated further into the blue. I sat in awe at my insignificance and the immense, limitlessness of potential to be significant, to matter. I saw that feeling, that feeling of expanse of vastness of infinty everywhere else and then I knew how it was meant for each and every one of us, we just had to find it, we just had to see it to be happy.
The day I fell in love was the day I learnt that love is not always fulfilled. I learnt of sacrifice, of loving through sacrifice. I learnt of happiness, bittersweet melancholic happiness that wasn’t mine still I cherished it.
I learn of new happiness everyday. I learn of new happiness within me everyday. The days are days of the usual and the ordinary but the days of mine are days bleak with potential, moody with dreams and most importantly mine and mine alone.