resting in london

Some people ask me why I am unhappy. I’m not. I’m grateful for my life. I enjoy the things around me. And I relish the new experiences I have on a weekly basis as well as those I know I will encounter in the near future. Then why do people say they can see it in my eyes?

The eyes. Those things they say are windows to the soul. Those things you can’t escape. Not matter how hard you try to shut them. Even behind those closed lids they create a kaleidoscope of colours and depths that defy even your own imagination. So maybe you shouldn’t try to escape your eyes. Maybe they’re meant to be there to show you things. Crazy, huh?

Sometimes I wonder if I really am unhappy. Sometimes I feel like crying just because. Does that make me unhappy? Sometimes I am sober and I feel like crying. Sometimes I’m drunk and I feel like crying. I wonder how often those feelings are linked.

Do my eyes really tell that much of a story? Sometimes I tell a story and I well up. Not because I’m upset but because…. Well, just because. Emotions so often are felt by osmosis. Maybe that’s where I get it from.

Once I got a reflexology from a clairvoyant and she unlocked all sorts of things from my past. Amazing how that can happen. Just when you think you’ve got it all sorted out.’

So am I unhappy? Because I sometimes feel like a piece of me is missing. Maybe that piece has something to do with finding the right person for me. But does that make me unhappy? I think it certainly makes me more determined to distract myself with other things in life. Prove myself in every other field I chose to immerse myself in.

I don’t choose to absorb myself with life because life just absorbs me. If something doesn’t distract me for long enough I let myself move on. But does that make me incomplete? Does that me unhappy?

Every person’s definition of unhappiness is different. At the end of the day…I could go on and pretty much talk shit until the cows literally came home. Don’t even try me. At the same time. Food for thought yeah…