All I’ve ever prayed for was to be happy. Perhaps that’s the most elusive emotion – not love. We shouldn’t even glance at love anymore than we should look at a caramel swiss roll – it’s nothing more than a path to happiness, though some prefer the physicality that comes with such love.
These days, my mind is clouded. I can’t even begin to tell where my thoughts come from. Am I thinking this? Am I really feeling what I think I feel? Or is it the pills? Countless hormonal manipulative pink pills have found their way through me, to a point where I begin to doubt my very essence. Yet the sad thing is how dependent I’ve become on them. They seem like the only solution. I mean, all I’ve ever wanted can be surmised in a single, unpretentious sentence: healthy babies, a body close to skinny but flattish and a PhD in theatre or philosophy. But not all those things can come to me right now, so I have no choice but to mount the horse of life’s prerequisite waiting phase and gallop through the meadows of muggy heat and straw fields calling out for the straw dog that’ll never come and bark in response to my please and oh how I’ve pleaded and cried all in vain for what for what I really don’t know but maybe when I find it I’ll become happy and I won’t have to lament on the life I’ve wasted trying to get to the life I want but is it what I really want or am I making it all up when all I really want……
Is to be still.
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