Happiness

Happiness 

"Happiness is a choice," they said.

No it is not.

No it is not.

They threw it in my face.

"You have the world, yet you're miserable. You'll never be happy. You're impossible."

Impossible?

Yes. In that they are right.

I feel impossible.

And life, this life, is impossible.

If I have it all and I feel like THIS?!

Maybe it's time to pull the rip cord.

Hit the eject button.

I've proven once and for all that I'm impossible.

Maybe it's better I go.

Maybe we'd all be better off.

It's not my first rodeo.

I've walked this road a dozen times.

I remember being eight.

Laying in bed, wondering,

What would it feel like if I "wasn't"?

Count your blessings, they said.

Start a gratitude journal, they said.

How those filthy words, "my blessings,"how they screamed in mockery, like fire that cinged my soul.

"All this! You have all this! And it means nothing to you?!"

"This misery that eats you alive day in and day out... You chose it. You're impossible. There's no hope for a monster such as you."

"F*** that." I moan.

"F*** gratitude journals."

I don't say it, but I can feel the words tear through my soul.

I'd rather burn in hell than sit in this hollow ache 

One. More. Day.

It's been three years now.

Three years since I felt the bottom of that bottomless pit.

Three years of finding handholds in the mud.

Three years of scratching and clawing to find light.

To find breath.

And now I breathe.

The sunshine strikes my face. I can feel its warmth.

They told me pleasure is fleeting.

But the oddest truth I found is this:

Doing things that make me happy...

Makes me happy.

This joy? I can't contain it.

I water the garden of the soil of my soul.

And from it bursts:

Painting 

Poetry 

Music 

And myth

Silliness 

And smiles 

And hugging the earth

Makeup 

And coffee 

And tears that are sweet

Winter

And springtime 

And summers soft heat.

Freedom is the garden that feeds my soul,

That brings beauty to each footstep,

And meaning to hold.🌺🙌🌈