I miss sadness.
We always want to find happiness, but when we do, why do we have sadistic cravings for misery, unhappiness, heartbreak? Sadness that makes us revolutionaries, writers and poets. That gives meaning and depth to the minutest of our observations and thoughts. I crave to hear a sad song and have my heart sink a little in the almost comforting (and familiar) melancholy of the singers voice. Happiness makes you numb, unaware, almost apathetic. I remember a dumb blonde once said happy people don’t do bad things (like killing their husbands), but do happy people do good things? Or do they become too self absorbed and happy to bother any longer? I wonder what kind of people we need to be then, to bring change.
And how ironic and typical of us, to complain of happiness.