I really am. I'm selfish and I'm rude, and self absorbed and full of shit. I mean, come on, how many posts have I done already about useless shit? I'm so wrapped up in being upset by the world and this absence of any meaning in my life, but really? I have parents and a brother, who though I hate to admit it, love me and the feelings kind of mutual. I love my whole family, and I love my friends, and I live in a beautiful country and I've seen beautiful things and places. I'm lucky. I'm really really lucky. I'm really really really lucky, That should make me happy right?
I have bursts of this happiness, but as soon as I'm alone, I start to feel like somethings not right. That the world isn't right. That I should be doing different things, seeing different places. I don't really know what happiness is though. As a kid I was really truly happy, I don't doubt it, I was happy. There are certain people and certain moments and certain things that make me feel overwhelmed with happiness, but only for a short while, before I slump back into this angry little world of mine. Is happiness supposed to be something you sustain for a long period of time, or is the best kind of happiness administered in short bursts? What is happiness?
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