Essay · · 5 min read
on happiness, i suppose
on looking for it everywhere except where i am
i think the best description of me came from a person i once loved
i hadn't known them that long, we only had a handful of conversations some of which were rather deep, like ones between two friends whove known eachother for a long time
they described me so well that it got me into tears, somehow, this person had written something that hit me to the core, and it was completely unexpected, never had i expected to read about myself like this, i felt happy, i was someone's muse, at last,
here's what it read
Manas,
what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, thats something ive been hearing for quite some time now and ive never had any reason to question it, until today.
i dont usually do this, infact i do the very opposite of whatvever this is, our conversation today made me sit with something i usually run away from. feelings. i am writing this now because people sometimes need to be loved in the way they pour to the world, You're people.
I sit down today spewing random feeling im feeling currently because you once told me you wanted it raw.
So here it is.
I hardly know you. We've talked only a handful times. But it's almost ironic the way you spend years surrounded by people who make you feel lonely. And on a random Sunday morning, you meet someone who makes you feel as if it's OK being you. Weird, sarcastic, and whatever else is fucked up with me. On a random evening. They summed you up to what you didn't even realize you were trying to put together into words. I remember you saying, "oh, you're being afraid of being understood" so casually after my yapping session. But you don't realize what weight those words held for me. Even if it was a flaw you pointed out, something clicked into place perfectly. Something I struggled to understand about myself for quite some time now. And on a random Tuesday night, the same night I sit down to write this, I kinda understood what made you you. More like i read it. I don't think I've ever read any of your work before, which isn't a bad thing I guess because I wouldn't have felt the depth of it, Had I read your words without knowing you as a person. I went through a heartbreak without being in love. That's how powerful those were. That's how pure the words were. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, they say. That's something I've been hearing for quite some time now. I've never had any reason to question it until today. Until our conversation, until I read your words.
Even though I'll probably never understand the extent of the pain you went through. I know enough to be sure it was enough to kill a weaker person. What doesn't kill you makes someone someone else a stronger person, perhaps in a way to in a way, you too. But more importantly, what didn't kill you made you softer. A better person. A kinder one perhaps. Someone who unknowingly understands people when they don't understand themselves. A person with kind words and kinder actions.
I cannot possibly sit here and write how you impact others or something equally moving ig ,because I'd be lying then. But I do know what you made me feel, so I thank you for that. I usually think not knowing everything until about someone is something less than desirable. I changed my mind today. I do not know you fully. And you know what? I'm glad I don't, because I certainly look forward to being your friend now, especially since now I know that didn't kill you-made you better.
There might be more pain that made you who you are today. As I said, I don't know you enough to conclude something about you. But I can only try. I don't know how right I am, but this is my interpretation of it.
I have certainly missed out on saying so much more because there's so much more to say and my memory is very volatile.
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they had summed me up so well that whenever i have a bad time i read it again, every time i was sad, every time i lost myself and last night i found myself reaching for it and i don't even know why, i wasn't particularly sad, nothing had happened, i just wanted to read it again and maybe that's what got me thinking about happyness because for so long i've treated it like something i had to earn, like it would come after i became successful, after i figured my life out, after i found the right people, after i became whoever it is i keep thinking i need to become, there was always something, some future version of my life that would finally make me happy and i think i've been looking for it in the wrong places because when i actually think about the times i've been genuinely happy they're almost embarrassingly ordinary, just sitting with people i love talking absolute nonsense, or even sitting in complete silence, goingon a long drive with music playing, laughing at something so stupid that none of us can even remember what started it, someone remembering some tiny thing i said weeks ago, coming home after a long day and just lying down, those moments never felt like happiness when they were happening, they just felt like life and maybe that's the problem, maybe i've been so busy waiting for my life to become something worth being happy about that i forgot to notice the moments where i already was. i don't think happiness is some huge feeling anymore, i think sometimes it's just that weird little moment where you're somewhere with someone doing absolutely nothing important and suddenly you realise you don't want to be anywhere else and maybe that's what i want now, not a perfect life, not some massive reason to be happy, just more moments that make me forget to ask whether i'm happy, and maybe that's enough, maybe i've spent so much time looking for happiness that i forgot what it feels like when it isn't asking for anything from me, it just sits there quietly and maybe all i have to do is notice.