Journal Schezar's Journal: Happiness 4
I'm a happy person. In fact, I'd say that I don't know a single person who's happier than I am. I'm sure there is such a person somewhere, but I just haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting him. My room-mate is close, but I'd say he's about equally happy to me, so he isn't actually "happier." We're both equally happy.
Now, I know a lot of sad people. Many, many people are generally bummed, depressed, suicidal, or otherwise just -sad-. Quite frankly, the concept is foreign to me. Alien.
You see, I never get sad. I'm happy no matter what happens in my life. I've been momentarily miffed, occaisionaly vexxed, and more than once frustrated, but never long enough to spoil the general feeling of utter joy I experience each and every day. I haven't been angry at anyone in many years.
((Skip down to the bottom if you want the short version. That's where I get to the point!))
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One of the things that I believe facilitates this feeling is my firm belief that words alone can never hurt anyone. NEVER. Now, before you say that isn't true, indulge me.
First off, I'm not talking about words that cause action. Telling the police that I'm a murderer will hurt me indirectly, but the words themselves caused no harm: you and the police did. Nor am I talking about words spoken behind one's back. They can indirectly harm a person's reputation, but they cannot actually harm the person directly. I am also not talking about blatant lies along the lines of "Your family was just killed," when such is not true. Such meanness is beyond the scope of my little dissertation/rant.
That being said, words can only come in one of two varieties: they are either true, or they are false. Let's take the case of the latter first. Obviously, if what someone says is not true, it cannot hurt me. "You're fat, and your mother is a whore" does not harm me in any way. I am actually quite lean, and my mother is a saint ^_^. The statement can't offend me: it isn't true. Indeed, there is no way in the world to offend me or make me sad with a lie. If I were somehow affected by that statement, then there must be some truth in it of which I am ashamed.
That brings us to the case of the former: a true statement. Quite simply, I'm ashamed of nothing I've done, and I'll readily admit to anything. Suppose I'd done something horrible. Someone berates me for it. It's a true statement: what I've done is an inescapable truth. The statement cannot actually cause me grief unless I'm ashamed or bothered by my past action. As I've never done anything I'm ashamed of, there is no statement that can preclude my happiness.
I've been in some blistering arguments, and I've had bone-chilling insults thrown my way on many occaisions. Alas, they mean nothing, for they're either false, and thus not worth even considering, or true, and simply worth fessing up to.
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Another key factor in my unending merriment is the fact that I never get angry. No one has ever done anything to me which has made me angry. Sure, people have done some pretty nasty and/or shortsighted things to me, even in recent memory, but such trivialties are hardly worth being angry over, let alone losing friends for. Grudges are silly, and revenge is pointless.
Furthermore, I can honestly say that nothing bad has ever happened to me. No matter how dire a situation I've found myself mired in, I've always found my way out unscathed. Even the few scathings I've had haven't bothered me. You see, I tell people that "everything happens for a reason," but what I really mean is that "everything happens." The past is the past. Spend more than a moment looking over your shoulder at the rock you just tripped over, and the rock in front of you will get you just as badly.
I take adversity as it comes. As the old saying goes, when you ask the gods for strength, they give you hardship which, in the overcoming, makes you stronger.
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Death is another big thing. A lot of my friends are afraid of it, or else otherwise deeply affected by it.
It doesn't bother me at all. It happens to everyone sooner or later, so there's no avoiding it. Thus, there's no worth in worrying about it. Live, then die. Try to have fun in between. Worry about death after you're dead.
As for other people dying, it happens. You move on. Sure, you might never see them again, but there's nothing you can do about it. Death is natural: it isn't anything sad or devastating, it just happens.
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Here's the point of this whole unedited, non-proofread rant.
One thing I've noticed thoughout my whole life is that people are constantly trying to rain on my parade, to "convince me" that I'm not actually happy. They tell me I'm unfulfilled, or that I'm faking it, or that it's not -really- happiness, or some other such bollocks. I'm not sure just what to make of it, quite frankly. -I- know that I'm happy. What difference does that make to others? Why don't people believe that my life is just one long sunny day (and more importantly, why do what care?) They can't seem to live with the fact that nothing bothers me, that I take everything (and I mean everything) in stride.
(With rare, dire, extreme exception, like Nazis, or maybe Zombies,) nothing's worth being angry over, and nothing's worth fighting over: life is wonderful no matter what happens. People should spend less time trying to make me unhappy, and spend more time asking themselves why they care so much about it in the first place. Happiness starts with you: I'm already finished ^_^.
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As I noted before, this is a rant. Any grammar errors/typos can be carefully shoved you-know-where.
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