Choking With Happiness

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

I gasp with happiness.

Inhale, exhale. And like this every time, you let this warm creature come closer to you, and then, bam, he is gone, and your hands just rummage in the void of air, raking in the still hot rest of the day. It was cool, fun, nice to be in this banal ignorance, common phrases, hot coffee, smells of autumn, bright colors on the street, it was all there. Night comes swiftly, the sun is no longer shining for me, but inside myself, I am freezing, my sun has turned into a moon. The warmth is only enough for the fear of memories. Every time I think that it will always be this way, and every time I am angry when I again find myself in the face of my present. Mercilessly, this is not a word, at least there is a hope that someone else is doing it, and not yourself, but here it just comes, no, it brings me, unnecessarily gives me last year's magazine, the heading "mourning" the most read. I don’t know how to stay in the comfort zone, I even doubt that it ever existed at all. And every time I go into my old experiences, I buy a new entrance ticket. Long, expensive and painful. They say this is called a change of mood, someone will call it bipolar personality disorder, someone else will somehow, but I just think that no one went out and nothing changed, there was no dynamics, nothing at all, sometimes, my hallucination of happiness coincides with the real happiness of another. Both seem ghostly, there is little difference, there are glimpses of brilliant light, but against the background even more brilliant. Sometimes I think that the worst thing in this life is that your idea of grief will never be able to penetrate into any soul in this world. At this moment, I imagine this great plan, which is impossible to comprehend, and I think that, apparently, it is the same with me, it is not given to another to comprehend mine. On this I calm down, but I do not humble myself. And really, why then all this is happening, why do we need so many people around, if everyone is as one, and one, as everyone else, and none of all will ever be able to look into the soul of another and see there something different from himself. What to do with this grief, why do I need it? Everyone sees their own and no one in common. And is it there, is it common? Is that only forced blindness in contact with the Other, this is exactly what unites us all. I don’t know how to keep happiness in my hands, I can’t even imagine how it can be kept in my thoughts, whether it exists at all. This is not a question, it is an exclamation steeped in anger. I would have demanded it if I knew from whom, or took it away if I met it from another, but no. How strong is this thing that destroys all illusions in a split second, I am amazed at its accuracy of execution, a truly skillful thing, this is grief. Take it in your hands and it seems that you really got something valuable, you start to appropriate it for yourself and feel how it takes me to itself, and now I squeeze it tightly, I'm afraid to let it go, and it already presses on my heart, squeezes out drop by drop tears, but I'm still afraid to let him go any longer, and suffocate, suffocate in this sincere love. How long will it be enough for me to love myself?