Sometimes I don’t want the right to pursue happiness. Because with that right comes a responsibility to aim for happiness.
Sometimes I just want to give up the fight. To just turn everything over and reach for a lesser goal than happiness. Christ’s glory is there to pick up after all we have done all we can.
Sometimes I want to tell christ I am done. I have done all I can. I have ran my race and now I am weary. But the bitter irony is that I am too stubborn to ask HIm for his divine assistance. I know that I am entitled to the ministering if angels but I am determined to do it all on my own.
Sometimes I am the bitter man who refuses help from others as he struggles to carry his load. I’m too stubborn to ask for help and too bitter to stop murmuring under my breath at the lack of help.
Sometimes I catch the fleeting glances of a happy couple who clearly have found something grand in someone else that makes them better and happier and I feel the emptiness to my side as I look at the empty space around me.
Sometimes when the frustration of the pursuit leads me to curl up in the fetal position and cry because I don’t have anyone in my life to hold me and tell me things are going to be all right.
Sometimes I weep openly as I write knowing that I drive people away; That I care most deeply for those I can’t have; That I will never have someone to share the popcorn with and someone to hold as I watch them fall asleep.
Sometimes I wish that I was a zombie. That I didn’t feel emotion and was instead a creature of logic.
Sometimes I just let the escalator push me off because I don’t want to move.
Sometimes i want to go back to my life in the shadows. Coping with cooking for one, 1 ticket to the cinema, a single toothbrush with a single towel in my bathroom.
Sometimes I wish I could talk to my mom. Really talk to her and not worry about her happiness at all.
Sometimes i wish I could channel all my frustration at life into a wooden club and obliterate all of them against a solid tree.
Sometimes I feel all this and sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I find the strength to carry on, to ask for help, to pull myself up from my own bootstraps.
Sometimes I rejoice in others self-evident happiness without regard to my own lacking.
Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I am happy.
But most of the time I just put one foot in front of the river. My feet striking the pavement at a rate of one foot per step. The cadence of music of the world floating around me.
Most of the time this pursuit of happiness feels like a trip down a river and I am trying to swim faster than the steamboat of happiness that is always looming in front of me.