Okay, okay, I'll stop being a baby! For like... five seconds... only long enough to serve some of my own personal copypasta... this is uh... little dated... October 29th leftovers! Enjoy...
Happiness is a matter of perspective. For example I enjoy everything... but then my perceptual comparison, that is, what I perceive as "the most unhappy"... is getting raped in the spine with an 80s era spinal tap... sans any anesthesia or sedatives.
In simple terms... if you've ever experienced hell... pretty much anything beyond that experience is bliss.
I feel endless, immense happiness simply from NOT experiencing that hell.
Even the "pit of despair" I'm currently wrapped up in like blanket... the unrelenting isolation and loneliness... feels soothing by comparison to my past.
There's a certain level of relief... when your family hates you to the point of actively trying to kill you through emotional neglect... you realize... people who are "better off" than you are usually the most hurtful and hateful people on earth.
Because they're never satisfied.
They can never stop wanting.
My family used to get very frustrated with me. Not because I ever did much wrong, but because they just needed someone to be frustrated with... and I was convenient.
I used to want to play Monopoly with them, because I would always win! It was fun for me, because the game was intuitive to the point where even my dad couldn't win against me. So we always played Scrabble instead! Or Trivial Pursuit. Games that were less intuitive to me and more intuitive to them.
I was always impressed with my brother playing Scrabble. I enjoyed it! Even though I didn't often win, I always liked to see what words my brother would come up with and I tried to emulate him.
Same with my dad, with Trivial Pursuit, cause my dad is like a walking encyclopedia of everything. I was always amazed at how easily he could remember rando historical facts. I tried to emulate him.
They would make fun of me.
I didn't understand why at the time, but in hindsight I realize that the people around me were desperate for a "win".
All the time. And so desperate and scared of losing... that they tried to "rig the game" in a sense, by never wanting to play games that I was good at.
I had to be the loser, you see.
For them.
They NEEDED me to be that. They still do. Lots of people do.
You see... you can tell just how talented you really are in life, by how many people try and pull you down or how much they try and convince people to ignore you or to label you as something derisively dissmissive.
It's your nature. Crabs in a bucket.
You can't deserve happiness.
You can only realize it.
It's the path to that realization that's important. It's the effective trace pattern of your soul.
Realization of the self is the only true measure of merit in this life.
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It's the whole point of it. You can't be happy until you realize what you really want in life in lieu of it.
What do you want beyond life itself?
See, I figured that out, which is how I learned to mentally tunnel on into exoversal and extraversal reality lines.
Because who tha'fuck cares about exploring physical reality when you can explore immaterial reality, to deep dive into oblivion itself, to face infinity's reflection within yourself.
You see, I found my happiness, I found myself, in the exploration of ideas, emotions and understanding.
And so that is what I do. That is largely all I do. Because it is what makes me happy. Doesn't make me rich. Doesn't make me famous. Doesn't make me important to anyone at all. But that doesn't matter... because in absence of everything else... it is what I still want.