I’ve come to realize that in general, I don’t know what to do with being happy and in a way, it kind of freaks me out. I seem to prefer the cocoon of brooding, morbid cynicism in which I keep myself tightly tucked, because I know it and it’s safe.
But even laying such preoccupations aside, I’ve also discovered that I am often unable to enjoy being happy for dreading the state of unhappy that invariably follows. This really doesn’t make any sense, because if I deny being happy for fear of being unhappy, I pretty much guarantee I’ll be bummed by default. Plus, if I can recognize that sadness can follow happiness as a matter of course, why not too could happiness again follow the sadness, just as easily?
In other words, if what goes up must come down, why couldn’t what comes down later go up again? After all, it managed to get up there in the first place. The very wording “what goes up” suggests that it (whatever “it” is) originated from a lower point to begin with. Right? Maybe? Otherwise, the phrase would be “what is up must come down.”
I think. Or something like that.
So why do I get so hung up on the coming down part that I’m unable to see the going up that will follow soon enough?
All rhetorical questions, by the way.
