I’m gonna reveal a tiny secret about myself, tell me if you relate with me. The slightest news of happiness fills my heart with a fear of something despairing happening next. Which means, instead of enjoying the moment, celebrating the happiness that showed up on my door and doing a victory dance in the corner, I sit down and pray to God, ‘Dear God, please, please, please don’t spoil it with something bad next in line.’
I don’t know what this syndrome is called and have no interest in knowing about it either, for I want to be like that Insta girl who enjoys every moment with wine, flowers, celebrations, dapper captions — basically all things cool. But, my friend, all I am doing is looking for woods to be touched.
I feel the best kind of happiness people like me experience are the little bursts, those which come like unexpected guests. Of course, those we do not hate.
And for me, these little bursts come with wagging tails, my mother’s smile because I did something nice, my dad trying to learn all cool gadgets (trust me he looks really cute with his new smartphone, tablet, Kindle — all lying together and him trying to learn something new in each one of them, simultaneously), meeting my long-distance boyfriend and both of us signing up for impromptu adventures, meeting an old friend and forgetting alcohol limits and the kind of jokes to crack in public, cuddling with my baby dog every morning, and more and more.
See, how many reasons of happiness I savour in my life, but if I ask myself a question of how happy I am in life, my mind plays dirty games. Unfair it is, isn’t it?
Sometimes, I can only count these faces of happiness when I sit down and write. I think all of us should beat our minds in their own games, for this world, isn’t such a cruel place to live after all.