I used to be a happy, chatty guy.
It’s not that I’m going about my life to be mean. It’s just that life has a way of wearing a soul thin at times and, while I really have no malice for others, I just can’t stand being all fake happy and cheerful all of the time.
In the Havamal is a saying “A wise heart is seldom cheerful.” I don’t have an aim of being the wet blanket at a party. I just don’t go to parties. I don’t want to take most peoples’ joy. I’m just seeking my own moments of joy.
And I hate encountering those who would take my joy from me, or others’, too.
I’m not as happy-go-lucky as I once was as a child, before the drugs. But I am trying to be.
I am trying.
But, the world is no place for constant, chronic happiness. Sometimes the joy of living is expressed in tears – sometimes wrath – and it is all a part of living.
And as my Aunt Cleta says, “If life was fair, there would be funnel cake.” (apologies to those readers who might not understand a weird American’s humor.) She has always had one of the best senses of humor of anyone I know.
Some days, I find myself wanting to talk only to people older than me, for their wisdom. And others, I find myself only able to exchange laughter with babies, because they remind me of how I used to be.
I suppose the main thing is I remember to no longer isolate myself and verbalize and not internalize and do my damnedest to not run on assumptions about anyone.
The drugs had me to such a point that, I would sit in silence as others screamed at me desperately to wake up and “stop smoking that shit.”
To each and every one who tried to reach me, I thank you. I want you all to know, I too, also reach out to others in the same way, every chance I get, to attempt some sort of repayment to you.
I try to pass it on to the next soul.
If you’re not yet a member here on Virily.com, join us for free at this link and start communicating. There is nothing more to buy other than belief in yourself.
You don’t have to be completely alone.