Why I don’t want to be Happy.
Hi:)
Been doing a bit of thinking lately…
I’ve discovered that, for me, life has never really been so much about the final destination as it has the journey. I love the anticipation of travel as well as the journey. I love having a goal in mind that I’m constantly moving towards–working toward something greater, whether I can see it or not.
Now, I’m not quite certain I know what happiness is, but I do see it as the overall goal of life–the ultimate satisfaction. I keep shooting for different things that I think will make me happy, then once I get it, I’m back at the drawing boards, scribbling new blueprints for a new course of action that’ll hopefully bring me closer to what I think happiness is supposed to be. It’s a never-ending cycle, vicious in it’s whirls.
“I plant my feet, and I clench my teeth. I can’t outrun what’s coming after me.”
-Troye Sivan, Swimming Pools
But I’ve been thinking: Maybe I’m purposely wasting my time going after all these superficial things because deep down, I don’t want to be happy. Maybe a brief moment of content is enough. I don’t know exactly what could give me that overall happiness, if anything, but I do have an idea. And while I do have an idea, I’m still not engaging in a plan of action to further pursue that goal.
“But I see a lighthouse in the distance calling my name. But I can’t get there till I go through all of this pain.”
Why?
Because I feel like I’ve tried all the back-roads, and pursuing this idea would be like hopping on the main road. If the back-roads can’t take me to my final destination, then what happens if the main road can’t either? I’d be left with no other roads to go.
I’m afraid that if I reach this idea, this goal, then I’ll still somehow find myself lost in the merciless current of that same old cycle; back at the blueprints with no more plans.
I’m also afraid that if I do find the happiness, then my next step in life will be settling, followed by a long, desolate road straight to death. There would be no more destinations, therefore, no more journeys. I need journeys to thrive. I need constant goals–a stick behind me and a carrot in front of me. Without that, I’m lost. Completely, and utterly lost. The thought scares me quite a bit.
On top of it all, I love being an underdog. For me, there’s nothing more motivating than the scent of doubt–whether it be my own or from someone else.
“There’s a glimmer of hope, like an exhale of smoke in the sky. And sometimes we drain out all the shit that used to feel right. Empty swimming pools.”
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