Artistincintimacy. The final hour of golden light before the sun hides behind the mountains and leaves a pastel coloured sleepy sky resting upon the world. I’m sipping on my second glass of wine. It tastes sweet like summer. The wind is warm on my skin. The smell of freshly baked bread and pasta lies in the air. They’re laughing. Careless and free. I look at my friends. I take another sip of wine. And in that moment I realize, I am happy. I am content. I found happiness.
There were break-ups. Tears rolling down my face. Heart-ache. I’ve failed. I got up again and failed. Again, again, again. I fought my way through the darkness. Eyes always fixed on that little bit of sunshine at the glittering end of the street. The light got brighter, bigger. I looked back. Heart filled with melancholia. And I realized that what felt like the end of the world, actually wasn’t that big of a deal. I found happiness.
I’m emotional. I’m a dreamer. And maybe sometimes a bit naive. Every heartbreak felt like my former lover took a part of me with him. I was a miserable, annoying, dramatic teenager. I drank. I danced through the night. I kissed strangers. I had too many “friends”. None of them real. I got hurt. Stabbed in the back. Disappointed. I felt like I was magically attracting drama, pain, and bad news. I always had a thing for drama.
Looking back it now all seems so stupid. At some point, I decided I couldn’t go on living like that, sulking around in my own self-pity and teenage drama. I cut the cords with most of my so-called friends. I met new people. Amazing people. Real friends. I found something I really like doing and started studying it. Hell, I even made it my job! I moved to another city and started to feel at home. I travelled and lost heart in different places. I am happy now. Genuinely happy.
I found happiness.