I’m [Not] on the Pursuit of Happiness

…and other random/scattered thoughts on self love, purpose, humanity, and disappointment.

There’s a certain kind of strange liberation in knowing there’s something you really, really want that you know you’ll never have.

Its…a masochistic kind. Because you sense a feeling of realness in your pain, a type of infinity that you’ll likely never experience if you indeed did get what you desired.

We think the human experience should be relegated to happiness. I think this limits us. To know sadness, to know emptiness, to know defeat, to know loneliness, to know frustration, to know anger, to know rejection….its an amalgamation of our composite strength, it gives us painful but important art through which others can also feel their own downheartedness. An art that can be dangerous as its often romanticized — its NOT to say we should seek out misery. But its more to say we shouldn’t only seek out the antonyms of misery — happiness; ecstasy. For instance — how often is one’s fight against injustice a “happy” experience? Liberating, yes. Fulfilling, yes. But happy? We know we will find disappointment in other humans and in ourselves when we find ourselves depending on others far more than we know we should. The part of my journey that ironically heartens me is seeing how strong my heart has become through the amount of disappointment it…