What does happiness taste like?
The whole idea of happiness is not something I can easily relate to, maybe I don’t know how to, or maybe because I know how ephemeral & fickle it can be and I understand how unhelpful it is to immerse or lose oneself in the deception of it, and this particular state of euphoria which many claim is one conundrum I have since adolescent found myself daily struggling with, and even to this stage of early adulthood, most of the questions that centre my thoughts are embedded there in my daily struggle to analyse the existential factors responsible for this weird state of mind.
And as much as I would have loved to own this thought, I believe this rhetoric is not particularly unique to me as many people who found themselves in the same state of mind also struggle with this unwholesome thought in their respective places, however in different ways it comes to them.
Of course, as human beings, I understand that we are all products of one history or the other, and in fact, our psychological makeup stems from the imprints of each day we live in and those we’ve left behind us, and not excluding the totality of events embedded in them, and with this, our adult life is troubled with the post-effects of things we have passed through or the things that have passed through us.
Majority of us are not so lucky to walk through this fire unscathed, so, we end up with holes & being mentally fucked up. And In responses to these bouts of trauma and the way they make themselves visible to us, we begin to question our pasts, scatter them, gather them, rethink them, sometimes we feel like stopping the world to rewind the time & relive those past days and alter the dark events they carried and undo whatever they’ve done to us, those who couldn’t analyse or tame theirs end up being severely damaged or self-destructing. I’m speaking now of the scars memories & events reopen and how they subconsciously and automatically shape and remake our world view.
These past days, I have find it difficult to paint a good picture of life as I have found myself losing faith in virtually everything — in the meaning of existence, living, dreams, friendship, relationship, romance, and all that, in fact, I have found myself questioning the validity of humanity and how we extend it to others.
I understand this thought is raw & unhealthy, but coming to realise how certain things sublime easily, and how they become mist in our faces as they fade away in our very eyes, (talking of love, joy, happiness…) and how they are being trivialise, one is left to wonder what exactly being alive is if not that we are merely here to hang on to pains.