Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Understanding Happiness

I went for a jog today (not different than any other day mind you) however today was, in fact, a bit different. I pulled on my very stylish black sweats, rancid scented under armor, obnoxious rainbow patterned beanie (because it was fucking cold outside), verdant green gloves and immensely worn running shoes and proceeded into the biting chill per usual. I’d gotten through a most invigorating one mile before I encountered that one thing that made today’s run quite different from the rest. Any other day I would have zoned out to my favorite band (The Killers by the way) on my mp3 player, dragged myself through four miles and topped it all off with a hot, refreshing shower. But my run today was impeded by the sad occurrence of a dead bird in my path.


My first reaction was repulsion. I jumped backward, a feat when your moving at such a pace, and actually stopped in some broken idea of a mid-stride and looked at it for a moment. Now, this wasn’t just one of those cute, brightly colored little tweeters that fly carelessly through the sky, this was a fucking honking buzzard of a creature, brown specked and neck twisted revoltingly too far to one side. I don’t know what came over me. It was just the body of a bird that I would never give two shits about. But seeing it there, broken on the pavement, seemed to confused me. I was stumped by it.


Attempting to shrug off the feeling I continued on and quickened my pace. I turned up the music and sweated onward. By the time I was on my second lap (I normally lap the school I attend two times before stopping) the thought of the carcass had flitted entirely from my brain and I was running under my usual consciousness or lack-there-of.


Rounded the same bend. There it was smiling up at me like a yawning sore. My reactions were precisely the same. I stopped violently. I stared intently at the cadaver. A wrinkled brow and panting breath. It was just a fucking bird. A dead fucking bird. Nothing to see here.


And still my juvenile fascination with the scene remained unrequited. I’ve been an avid believer in psychology for some time now and I began to question why it was that my first reaction, in both situations, was foremost disgust. It had once lived. I have no qualm over touching a living thing. In fact I revel in it. Cuddling with a pet or a person or hell even a pillow, is sometimes so calming. However, picturing myself with my arms wrapped around that heap sends chills down my spine. And even though I understand that it’s pointless to be scared of something that was once beautiful, I cannot answer to anyone why.


And standing there I realized that perhaps we all have that same reaction to things we don’t understand. Repulsion is merely the pathetic reaction to something we’re scared of and humans are notorious for being scared of things they don’t understand.


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I met someone and guess what…he makes me happy. Is there possibly anything wrong with that? I have a friend of mine who told me once that I’m never happy. I didn’t understand her, tried to get her to elaborate but she really couldn’t. Lately I’ve honestly been thinking about it and it’s true. I’m not.


I’m the kind of guy who bases his happiness off of other people. Don’t ask why. I just really love people. When I make someone upset I’m always quick to stop what I’m doing to fix it. But this guy, he makes me happy. So, I don’t want to stop. I like kissing him. I like holding his hand.


What I’m trying to say, I think, is that I’ve made someone, even maybe a few people, unhappy. In my attempts to please everyone, mistakes will always be made by a human. I can’t possibly make everyone love me back like I love them. And yes, some of them may not like him. But this guy, he makes me happy.


So for once I guess all I can say is fuck you. I’m fed up with not being happy. We’re all meant to smile sometimes. To laugh and love and hold and be held. We deserve to be happy, even if at times it’s unfortunately at the expense of another’s happiness. But if we always base our happiness upon others, how can we possibly find it ourselves?


So, I met someone and guess what…he makes me happy.

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