I consider myself an occasionally happy person. It is likely you see me sad-looking, the corner of my mouth tweaked to reveal my irritability, or criticality. It is also likely my joke is half-genuine when we meet for the first time. For, although I am generally polite, and will try to make you feel in good company, politeness scarcely reveals a state of mind.

The daily happiness to which I aspire is attainable. I am most happy when I turn off my reading lamp and lie on my bed. My solitariness, the enshrouding darkness, the stuporous feeling I get from thoughts receding to the base of my mind, and the knowledge that I am momentarily disaffected by the hibernating world—makes me happy.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *