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163 of 365

I am told the most important questions in life have the most difficult answers. The one question that irks me has a complicated answer I think. What is happiness? Specifically, why is there such a craze to find it? I have personally not been able to answer this question. Yet I take part in the charade to seek it, find it and bask in it. I can pretty easily answer what makes me happy. I also spend many hours doing the things that I enjoy. Then what does being happy mean? Does it mean never shedding a tear? Never hurting about losing a friend? Never regretting your horrible choices? I assume not. Then when someone asks, “Are you happy?” My answer should have a yes somewhere in it. But I find myself refraining. I have built up this emotion inside my head and I find nothing seems to match it. It is supposed to be warming, earth shattering and mind numbing. Right? Maybe. It probably also doesn’t require me to be happy all the time. Mostly.

Yet, I find myself constantly standing on a cliff and stretching out my arms, hoping to grasp happiness at least for a few fleeting seconds. I am yet to find it or I might have found it and I just didn’t realise it. Or worse, the pursuit for happiness might actually be pointless. And in fact enjoying life in erratic spurts is actually enough.

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