A wise person once told me that it’s important to spread confusion, not to eliminate it. That’s why I decided to write this post, instead of doing some real investigation about what’s confusing me. Happiness is confusing. And a little scary. Especially when you can’t pinpoint the exact source, and the shelf life is longer than a few beer infested hours, you begin to wonder what’s brought on this unfamiliar feeling – where even the bitch of a ride to work doesn’t get you down. And you spend the entire day staring at a beat up old computer screen doing something not very phenomenal, go home to an empty house and eat a vegetarian dinner alone in front of a non flat screen TV watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. And still feel optimistic while climbing into bed. And though my state doesn’t quantify as ‘euphoric’, I’m still pretty worried about this needless, causeless positivity. It’s most unlike me. I’m someone who loves to fret – about the future, and getting fat, and losing my
"A dawn to end all nights, that's all we hoped it was"