Maybe it’s just the fever talking right now. Maybe it’s just the fever that feels impossibly incapable of making things good. Maybe it’s just the fever who is enjoying this moment, along with all of those that came before it, and feels hopeful about the future.
Things are very different now. I knew that my life was going to change when I made the decisions that I did, but I had no idea that even the smallest of comments could make me feel like everything in my life is a one-sided fight, an effort in vain. I suppose that happiness is a fickle thing, a twisting and turning idea that most believe is a destination you can visit and never have to leave. I know better than that, but I still do my best to find happiness where I can. I’m actually enjoying everything about where I am, even if it isn’t the mirror image of where I thought I would be on the edge of turning twenty-one. Life is hard. Life will never cease to be hard, even when it has more easy moments than in times past. Things will change, colors will fade, and the people that you know now will die or move away and everything will feel like a thousand temporary fragments you can’t piece together into a finite existence.
But, damn it all if it doesn’t take one little sentence to unravel all the goodness I have sewn together. What am I supposed to say when you tell me that you’re “as happy as you can be” despite all of the difficult things in our life? What does that actually mean? Where exactly is this place where life possess the ability to be simple and perfect? It makes me feel so worthless, you know. It makes me feel like no matter how good I am to you and all the nice things I do for you that you can analyze your life and sum it up to the fact that you are just tired all of the time.
I just don’t know. I don’t understand.
