Remember what I said last time about not being happy for a long time? It was bullshit. I like to think that because I'm a pessimistic, possibly bipolar misanthropist.
I'm happy every day. I just like to dismiss those feelings because they're useless. I can't use them for anything. If I was always happy, I would get nothing done. Unhappiness is what motivates me to progress. If I'm happy, why would I want to do anything that might change it?
I am happy though. Although there are stretches following horrible events when I feel nothing but numbness and pain, I am usually content, and I also experience periods of mad happiness that last for minutes or days. Crazy euphoria that I can only express by ceasing to frown and consuming large amounts of sugar. I intend to write this post during these periods over several days. Let's see how long it takes.
And I think I should share things that make me happy on this blog, too. Sharing is caring, remember? Many of my friends are unhappy. And I think that although I'm totally fine with my negativity, it gets them down sometimes. I should share some positivity once in a while.
Some of these things don't give me deep joy, but they make me happy nonetheless. They shouldn't be disregarded. And these things aren't arranged in any kind of order, although this first item does give me the most happiness.
1. Cats. My cat, other people's cats, homeless cats, stray cats, big cats, domestic cats, baby cats, elderly cats, hairy cats, hairless cats, you name them, I love them. Maybe it's the big, round, baby eyes and whiny, childlike voices that biologically tug at my heartstrings. Maybe it's the soft fur and the little noses and the arrogant tilt of their proud little chins. Maybe it's everything. No matter what mood I'm in, cats instantly fill me with bliss. Just looking at them smooths all the jagged edges of my soul. Holding one in my arms can only be expressed as zen. Total peace within.
Especially if it's my cat. No one else has ever given me such happiness. People hear his story and tell me how lucky he is to have been found by me. But I think I'm the lucky one. My life would be so empty without him. My home would be so empty without him. My bank account would be fuller, but I wouldn't enjoy it.
And he's just like me. I raised him, after all. He has all my bad habits and idiosyncrasies, and I hate that I taught him all that. It makes me not want to have any children, ever. Or raise any more kittens. Give me adults who got fucked up by other people.
But it's not just my cat that's like me. I identify profoundly with cats. I feel like I belong with them. Like them, I'm independent, individualistic, proud, lazy, and sometimes simply unfriendly. I form deep bonds with a selected few individuals, lash out at them from time to time and always go back as if nothing happened.
So, naturally, cats are the animals towards which I express most physical affection. So much that I don't know how to touch people any more. I find myself wanting to rub faces with my friends in greeting and stroke the backs of their necks to show affection. Which brings us to the next item:
2. Friends. I sometimes understate how much friends mean to me. On purpose, because I fear that they don't feel the same way about me. But the friends I still have haven't let me down. They're always there for me. No matter how much I get hurt, how many times I fail, how many fights I get into, or how many times I break down and retreat, they'll be there when I come back, with sympathetic ears and kind words and sometimes, sarcastic comments that are just as loving.
Of course, they really get on my nerves sometimes. But I love them for that, too. There's no one else I'd rather be pissed off at.
Needless to say, the word "friend" means a lot to me. I use it to describe very few people. The rest are just "my classmates," or "my friend's friends," or "this person I know from this place." When I call you a friend, it's tantamount to declaring my love for you.
And sometimes, casual acquaintances behave like friends. Just the other day, a girl I've spent time with on less than ten occasions came to my defence. When people do things like that, it warms my heart and makes me uncomfortable at the same time. Maybe it makes me uncomfortable because it warms my heart.
3. Books. Specifically, books with stories in them. I love stories about people whose lives seem somehow parallel to mine. It's nice to know there are people like me, who go through the same things as me, even if they're only fictional. Fiction is only based on reality, after all.
I think I also look to books for answers. To big questions. What is life? What is death? Why do people suck? Are there anybody who doesn't? Is it possible to be whole after being broken? Is it possible to live alone for ever? The answers are not in books, but books help me come to my own conclusions.
But let's not get into that. Moving on!
4. Music. I listen to music for the same reason I read books. Yes, Maslow was right. Even the most narcissistic misanthropists need to feel like they belong.
It's amusing that like me, Beethoven seems really bipolar and Jonathan Davis of Korn finds comfort in gloom and Beyoncé feels helpless sometimes and incredibly powerful at others. And they can express emotion with music, rather than explanations. It's so easy to recognise emotions as sounds.
5. Shoes. I'm not kidding, shoes make me ridiculously happy. I consider my feet a very important part of my body. They're very sensitive. Therefore, I take care to dress them well. I love shoes that make my feet look good. I don't even own a pair of slippers. Never.
I think shoes are what bring an outfit together. You can wear the nicest clothes but ugly shoes will void them instantly. I wear jeans and t-shirts with nice heels, and people ask me why I'm always so dressed up. If I wore them with slippers, I would look commonplace. And I am hardly commonplace.
I crave new shoes all the time, and more so when I feel bad. I can never resist going into shoe shops, unless they're full of ugly shoes. D & C, for example. Ugh. Charles & Keith, however, is heaven. Beautiful, expensive feet heaven.
I never buy shoes on impulse, though. What's worse than having no new shoes is having new shoes that I don't really want. When I look at shoes in shops, I hold them in my hands and look at them from all angles. I imagine my feet in them and think of how they'll make my outfits better. Then I put them back on the racks and go home. I go to sleep and if I want them in the morning, I buy them. I'm instantly filled with joy. Shallow but intense joy that fades, then intensifies every time I wear them. Ohhh, I love shoes.
And that's it. It's been weeks, and this is all the happiness I can manage to write about. So I'll just call this Part One, and come up with five more items whenever I feel like it.
OHKAY?
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