Tag Archives: happiness

Summer

Posted on by under life

I never used to like summer. It was too bright and too much and the sun kept bouncing of the pages in my books so that I had to go in or find a place in the shadow for it not to blind me. But now, now I’m a battery, constantly waiting for the sun to recharge me and warm my heart up enough for me to survive those long winter months, full of cold and never relaxing muscles. I think it’s a pity that we have to sleep. Were that not the case, I could see it all, stay up between sunset and dawn when it’s never really dark anyway because the sun may drop beneath the horizon, but never far enough that its light doesn’t still reflect on the cold sky. My creativity is fading though. Because I’m happy and some part of me doesn’t need the words flowing out of me at the moment, so I force them because it’s times like this I actually want to know how I feel.

Drunk on feelings

Posted on by under poetry

I’m a drug addict, but instead of atoms you’ll find feelings injected in my veins, and I crave them. Crave them when I feel way to empty, and the longing after them might paradoxically be the strongest of them. I want to define them, ground them, put them down on pages and scream them out in words. Paint my skin with their colour and patterns and let the water in the watercolour paintings of them run down the walls. I’ve never considered myself a happy person, because I have this. Because when I’m far away from God I’m drowning. My heart can find no peace and so I climb the walls and tear at my skin and curse the laziness that just makes me want to sleep when my brain is to high to find any rest. I used to think I was controlled by my thoughts because I’m always thinking too much, but what I’m thinking about is now and always depending on what I’m feeling, with no rationality or logic to remind me that sadness or joy is temporary. I’m an addict because my feelings control me way to much and I love them.

Posted on by under notes

Art can be born out of other things than pain. Yes, how beautiful is not the art of the broken-hearted? I heard someone say once that sad was happy, for deep people, and the problem with pain has always been in its ability to seduce that far overrides the one of happiness. Bittersweetness is the most beautiful feeling I know.

I’m trying to teach myself, trying to learn how you find your source of creativity in light instead. Because I’m starting to realize that the seduction of pain doesn’t mean it’s more satisfactory, it just means that it’s easier. But it’s also weak, and usually selfish, whether we choose to see that side of it or not. I’m trying to choose happiness.