It’ a funny thing, happiness.
For me, it’s always a past tense event. I can see that I have been happy, but never feel happiness in the present tense.
My doting boyfriend (we’ve made up) asks me frequently, “darling, are you happy right now?” and I always obligingly respond to him that I am most definitely happy. Except I’m not. I feel like I’m never happy, and I don’t know what to do.
I’m on a high dose of antidepressant, and I go for walks, eat alright, drink enough water, get good sleep and yet here I am miserable as ever.
There is one thing alone that makes me feel truly happy in the present tense. It’s like summer, and it’s conveniently condensed into a small, clear bag. It’s like late summer nights where the sky spills oranges into pinks into blues. It’s like summer mornings and waking up late to the dappled light of the sun coming in through the windows, giving the room a golden glow.
It’s beautiful, and it makes me happy. Present tense.