Happiness is NOT other people.
Every man is an
island, every woman too. Mostly because other people are REALLY annoying!! They never do what you want them to, when you want them to do it. They hardly ever
mean what they say or say what they mean. And most frustrating of all - they
change their minds all the time - sometimes in all the time it takes to drink a
venti caramel latte.
Even people you
love are irritating. Most of the time I want to decapitate my own mother, in an
overly ostentatious ceremony presided over by six bald eunuchs in white robes
and kohl lined eyes, just to shut her the hell up!! And I really love my mother;
she's life and breath to me. My sister, the person I love most in the whole,
entire world, without whom my life would be meaningless, is SUPER annoying too.
She hardly ever just admits that I am right - ABOUT EVERYTHING. Has the
audacity to have different opinions about stuff even though she knows I AM
ALWAYS RIGHT!! Gives really stupid romantic advice, I mean really stupid;
and is generally a cantankerous shrew, who is always insane beautiful, making me
look like an over-ample assed specimen of 'bovinity' next to her,
especially in photos. *Sigh* It's a hard life.
Other people do
not make us happy, they make us miserable. The more you care about someone, the
more likely they are to make you freaking hate your life. To hurt you,
sometimes out of carelessness or ignorance, sometimes deliberately but most
times for no comprehensible reason at all! Regardless you're still the one
getting sucker-punched in the face. HARD. Thus, every man - and woman - should be an island,
afloat in a sea of self-reliance, or else be ready to have your face smashed
in. Me? I'm beginning to resemble Stallone as Rocky in the climax of the
original movie, after he's gone 12 rounds with the big scary Russian dude, and
is about to be beaten to a big, bruised, Italian pulp!! Adrrriiiiaaannn!!!!
No, other people
definitely do not make us happy - that's a myth, they just make us miserable in
varying degrees. Therefore, dear Dumbass, do not put all your happy eggs in
anyone else's basket. They WILL make an omelet out of them and make you watch
as they lightly sprinkle pink Himalayan salt over it and then scoff it down as
you weep in despair.
Happiness is not a
state of constant being, it's moments, no one is ever constantly happy. Well apart from kids TV presenters, but lets not talk about Rolf Harris *shudder shudder*. All we
ever are, at best, is mostly happy. Sometimes the stupidest things make us
happy; walking bare foot in Hyde Park over slightly damp grass, a bumble bee
buzzing around in a lilac flowered bush, Harrods all lit up in a London
twilight, laughing hysterically over a letter addressed to some guy with a
funny name, carrying a giant pizza box up a set of impossibly narrow stairs,
smelling a jack fruit, sharing a bench in a green surrounded by urban decay,
all things that made me happy in the moment, but now make me sad, because like
the moment in which they happened, they too were fleeting.
How does the
average dumbass remain happy then?
By doing the
things that make you happy as often as you can, indeed, all the time if you
can. Maybe that is the secret to happiness.
They say - whoever
"they" may be - the sages of our time, Dr. Phil, Ophra, Phillip
Schofield on 'This Morning', the Loose Women - that being content with yourself
makes you happy, well check that. I think I'm freaking awesome. Really. Job
satisfaction makes one happy apparently, well I love my job, and more
importantly, I enjoy and love working with the people I work with, so check,
check that. Having friends and family who care about you is supposed to make
you happy, mostly a big check for that. So am I
happy then?
Mostly I think I'm
just bruised in the face.
But the problem
with islands is, they're pretty lonely places.
