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I’ve come to believe that happiness, like beauty, is a relative term. What someone else defines as beautiful varies from person to person and I’ve noticed that happiness us the same.

For example, I think a new leather-bound journal is beautiful. I think handwritten letters and green eyes are beautiful, yet not everyone would agree.

And while we’re on the subject of beauty, am I the only person who finds some things tragically or morbidly beautiful? Like fall leaves. It’s as if, in their death, everyone appreciates them. Yet they are still dying. Or sunsets. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I think sunsets are both depressing yet beautiful. “The death of another day, miserably masquerading as something beautiful,” I believe I phrased it.

Other things I find tragically (or more accurately, “morbidly”) beautiful:

Cemeteries, with their bleached headstones and their perfectly manicured lawns. And the flowers and mourning wives, husbands, children. There is a morbid beauty in remembrance.

Also, hospitals. The only place where people come to be born, heal, and die.

And winter. An entire season dedicated to death. And yet we, as humans, thrive in its white, chocking, strangling, suffocating, chilly beauty.

I digress.

Happiness. Relative. That’s what I was getting at.

I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness lately. Whether I am or not; what makes me happy now; what I envision for myself 50 years from now, in the way of happiness.

Things that make me happy right now:

Gryffin
Books
Hunter
New shoes
Work, in a way
Money
Music
Tattoos
Clothes
My family
Spring rains
Candles
Good
Lists
Sleep
Heartbeats

Looking at that list, I can’t decide if I am materialistic or normal.

Pick your battles, I suppose.

As for actually BEING happy, I am undecidedly leaning towards not. I find not in the things on the aforementioned list, but I wouldn’t say I’m happy. I actually wouldn’t even classify myself as content. I am… Getting by, on the struggling side of things. I struggle to pay my bills, I struggle with my job, I struggle with anxiety.

"Struggling" seems to be an accurate word to describe my life currently.

I laugh easily and frequently, yet I’m just not sure anymore.

To brighter futures.

Depression is not something you can control with medicine or diet or exercise like other things. Sometimes it rears its ugly goddamn head and all you can do is cope with it and do the best you can. And that’s all we can expect from you. And we will love you no matter what. We will love you because of your flaws, not in spite of them. Because they’re what makes you beautiful.

Words always fail me when I need them most. My tongue stumbles over my vowels and consonants. Putting pen to paper seems to be the only way to say what I mean these days and even then the words aren’t adequate.

I really can’t describe how much music means to me.

For most people, music is just something to fill the silence. Something pleasant to play in your car on your way to work.

But for people like me, it’s different.

It is the chill down my spine when a chord progression is particularly strong.

It is the way tears come to my eyes when a lyric hits me hard.

I feel music in my bones.

It is firecrackers and snowflakes, like Christmas in July.

It’s the reason I wake up every morning and remember to breathe.

So never say it’s “just music”.

It has NEVER been “just music” to me.

I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and saw them crying in their bed at night or singing in the shower or humming quietly to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street. And even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think, after seeing them at their most vulnerable, you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with them.

Last night, I was was laying in bed crying, and my cat came up and laid next to me on the pillow. I put my hand on his side, for comfort, trying to pull myself together. He looked me directly in the eye, put his paw on my chin and we just laid there like that for awhile. It was like he was reassuring me that he’s here, and that together we’ll make it through.

I really don’t know what I’d do without him. <3

Cats >

I adore flying, the whole experience. Running through terminals to get to my plane, sitting next to a stranger and parting as friends, the way my breath catches when the wheels leave the ground and the exhale of relief when they touch down safely at the end. Looking out the window mid flight and realizing that you literally left all of your problems on the ground. Your insecurities, debt, hate, all of it. When I break through the clouds and rise above them, the sun setting them ablaze, I feel…untouchable.

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