When you are a child you don’t make yourself unhappy. You play and if someone takes your toy you try to get it back. If there are cookies and you want some then you grab them. If you are older and not allowed cookies you steal them when no one is looking and eat them in secret.
Yet adults make themselves unhappy. They build things that they don’t want to build. They go to places that they don’t want to go and they spend time with people they do not want to spend time with. And not even when someone holds a gun to their head, all the time. The do things that make them unhappy even when they seem free.
They are all still performing for their master so that they might get a treat. Inside they are still small children follow orders.
Very few make other people happy doing what they love. Few get to finance their consumption out of their own joyful creation.But if they had not decided to joyfully create in the first place then it would be impossible for them to get paid
Most are slaves to their paychecks, the comfort that drowns their true desire. They kill the voice of passion with alcohol, sugar, aimless tweets or mindless shopping.
I am one of them. I am keeping myself in an environment that I do not enjoy with people I share less of a path with every day. I eat food that I know I will regret and neglect to follow my desires. I hang out with people I only mildly like and fear being alone. Very little excites me and my days feel like walking around dead. And still I choose it. While my self-esteem crumbles when I do things that I rather wouldn’t do, yet continue.
I feel as if I am moving towards a turning point. A tipping point. A tension is building and I wonder how it will release. For this is not the life I intend to live.
To happiness, and beyond!