Too pensive on a Sunday evening


I wish happiness came in the form of Christian LaCroix couture or Loboutin heels. Or Manolo Blahniks. Or a hug. Or in the form of an orange cranberry muffin.

No one can say that they’re truly happy. Happiness is a delusion we will ourselves to believe in. Even unhappiness is just a state of mind we choose to be in. We’re too obsessed trying to be either one but we forget that it’s just about being content with what you have and the way you have it, or not. What makes you happy may not make you feel full, it’s more of a temporary high that we like to indulge in. Can anyone be happy or unhappy every second or hour of the day? I don’t think so – that just makes you deranged or lifeless.

No amount of Prozac’s going to help change that, kid.

When you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told you I wasn’t done growing up just yet. Or I’ve already grown up but I just missed that part of enlightenment. I don’t want to grow up because I like the way things are and I don’t want the excess baggage that comes with age. I’ve already got too much shit still unpacked cos it won’t fit into my current baggage.

I want to be anonymous in another place.

I want to be a hermit – wonder what that’d be like?


5 thoughts on “Too pensive on a Sunday evening

  1. Happiness isnt a delusion.
    Thinking that it is, though,
    is the first step to never achieving it.

  2. I think I’ve read too many books on that to convince me of its ethereal existence. Though I’m not saying that it doesn’t exist entirely, maybe just in sporadic moments because to actually say that life is happy & wonderful is unrealistic.

    I’m just satisfied with the thought of being content, for now. 🙂

  3. Just a passing thought, and my two cents worth is all. You know I like to talk with myself, so this is kinda like it – but other people hear the conversation too. Haha & nah.. that’s just nirvana man 😉

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