Happiness always sneaks in a door you did not think was open
Life is strange. I love the roller coaster ride I have had so far. It’s a great story. With hindsight, the bad memories seem to perfectly compliment the good ones. Better yet, the good ones may actually taste sweeter. Maybe, that’s what keeps me going through the bad experiences in my life, the happiness that I know is round the corner, inevitable and always worth the rough ride.
Love must be the only happiness that always eludes me. Don’t get me worry, I have ran into it. A few times in fact. But, its never stuck around. Now, it’s become an option. Its sad. I was a kid that dreamt of falling in love. I watched endless movies and read books and poems about love only to vicariously live through these fortunate frictional characters until someday I can feel it for myself. To be in their shoes. Ah, I envy that 12 year old self.
And that’s the price, the sacrifice I have made. The price of the ticket for this “rough ride” no one warned me about. I have become cynical and untrustworthy of love and relationships.
I figured what’s wrong. I have too much happiness in my life right now. My work, my friends and my comfortable lifestyle has made me forget about what love meant to my younger self. The younger self never had any of these luxuries that I define as necessities now. The other day, I was sitting around drinking a bottle of coke because I was lazy to get some water. Yes, I know its unhealthy. My point is that the younger self never had coke. It was a luxury, a happiness he never enjoyed. The same can easily be said for the TV, the xbox, air-conditioning, fruit juice, shampoo. The list goes on and on.
How does this tie in with my cynical perspective of love. Its simple really. Love was everything for the younger me. It was intangible free happiness. Everything else cost money and/or time. Both of which I didn’t have growing up. As I grew older and other tangible benefits came my way, love wasn’t so great. It was ordinary and sometimes felt like too much work and effort for non-assured happiness. The harder I worked, the more I become logical and calculated in achieving my happiness.
Then, you meet someone, someone different, someone unique. Its hard, its challenging, its difficult and sometimes seem impossible. But you try. I don’t know why. Its strange. Its your heart. That illogical, irrational, unreasonable organic thing that makes smart people act stupid.
I must admit the vulnerability is nice. The lack of control refreshing for a control freak like me. You can read and re-read a million books on what love is and what it feels to fall in love. Yet, when it happens. You understand why people search their whole lives for it. Its completeness of oneself that no work, friends and money can provide.