I have never considered myself a particularly happy person. Despite the fact that circumstances have not been too harsh to me and on many cases I could even claim to be lucky, I would often find myself in the situations when I was supposed to be happy and I felt… nothing.
Isn’t it weird? It is like putting in your mouth a Michelin-star foam-like masterpiece (for which you are going to pay five times more) ready to indulge into the heavenly bliss of taste and then thinking that it is actually, hmm… sort of okay. But you cannot admit that you are disappointed even to yourself, because there is the voice in your head that tells: “Don’t be stupid! You should enjoy this moment to the full!”
Or, you are on a date with a person you like very much, and it goes well, but you feel something wrong, the chilly breeze between you two. You get strained, with your eyes fixing on random objects in the room, hands fidgeting and words chosen too carefully to let you feel simple ease, let alone happiness. You know that this is no accident and the hope for beginning of happy relationships is gone. Puff… You feel frustrated.
What is the elusive nature of happiness? Could a person be happy all the time? The modern cult of happiness implies that if you are not happy there is something wrong with you. Maybe, you are depressed…
