The Overthinker of Happiness

Scribbled at the top of a page in a notebook is written, "what is happy to you" followed by a collection of responses, in different inks and velocities, some legible and some more of a drawing than letters; it's a sleepy dog laying on the floor next to me, the sounds of a crackling fire, counting the stars with no memory of what number I started on or stopped with; it's watching the life you're raising figure out the world around them, feeling your mind go empty with thought because it's lost in the moment of being instead; it's flipping through maps, looking at old photos, dreaming about the next spot the sleeping bag will get to experience air again. It's knowing that it's right here with me at all times but teaching me that if it was holding my hand I wouldn't understand how uniquely beautiful the feeling can be. 

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We like to use each other as our collecting buckets to dump our burdens but forget to acknowledge our sincerity in connection to one another. Put down the buckets that do nothing but fill, continue to pick up the ones that keep letting the wind take their sand and lighten their weight. You don't deserve to carry buckets for those who seek only to fill them. 

. . . . . .

I think that good things come to an end because good people stop working towards them; that we search too hard to find a way to forgive others when really we just need to forgive ourselves; that we set high expectations but hold no standards. I think it's time to look deeper inside for happiness rather than in stretched thin surroundings. 

. . . . . .

Be the good you want to find in someone else.