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The Mystery

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 teeth, and just about anything. I also genuinely love to complain. I enjoy cribbing, and it can be about my love life or the economy. It doesn’t really matter. That’s not to say I’m a pessimist or a wet blanket. I love to have fun. Just not all the time. But peace of mind, that’s something I’m not used to, especially if it doesn’t come on the back of an accomplishment.

So what could it be?

It’s not my friends. I mean, of course I love them, and hopefully vice versa, but nothing has really changed to cause a spike in the meter reading. It’s true that one is back home after a year, but another has just left. The others are constants in the equation.

Its most definitely not love. My love life (if it even qualifies to be called that) is as DOA as ever, with a Prince, Charming or otherwise, conspicuous only by his absence.

It’s not likely to be happy hormones. Those are released when you exercise and I haven’t moved my every expanding butt to burn some calories for over a month. I’ve also just recovered from a week of non-life threatening illness, which only left me with more work to catch up on and no sense of victory for having survived.

Could it be the job? But that’s been constant for over a year now. If anything, I should be overwhelmed at this point, and anxious about the daunting task ahead. But it still doesn’t seem to be enough to pour water over the vague mood of positivity that I am wallowing in. Maybe I’m looking forward to the challenge?

That leaves family. My big bro is finally getting married soon! At the risk of sounding more like a mother than a sister, I will own up to the fact that I’ve been waiting a long time for this. But he’s been engaged a few months now, and the wedding is still far away, so it really can’t be the root cause.

So why? Why am I happy?

“Sanity and happiness is an impossible combination” – Mark Twain


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