Happiness on a page (or screen)

Notice how people write a lot more when they’re unhappy? There’s something to be said about the therapy of penning thoughts and feelings while dealing with various issues that bother us. It’s no secret that people write a lot less when they are happy. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and organised a few thoughts about the phenomenon where people are less tap-happy while in a happy place.

Happiness is less interesting on a page;

Gushing is unpopular;

When you are not superstitious and don’t believe in jinxing at all but penning down how rosy the world looks to you now might be a potential bitter pill for the future though you hope to heck it won’t happen that way;

When your heart is full to bursting on a daily basis, and you are suddenly bereft of the right words to say;

When you feel guilty for being so happy, because you reckon no one should be this happy when there are so many others, including people you care about, who are coping with their own struggles at this point in time, and you choose to minimise expressing how damn freaking pancreas-busting-ly happy you are;

When you have the urge to broadcast what you feel, but what stops you is the knowledge that some things are between you and the other – I don’t mean dirty laundry or passive aggressive button pushing, but simply knowing that you and the other are the only relevant ones in this thought, this feeling, that only the both of you will fully understand. And that’s why we share, isn’t it? To be understood by at least one other human being;

When you hear someone say the words you’ve been afraid to say but have been playing around the periphery of your mind and dancing on the silent corners of your lips;

When the little things cease to matter all that much, or when they do, they don’t matter for as long a duration;

When what you are writing about has taken a different track somewhere along the half page you’ve just tapped out on;

And I’m now standing on a different thought path blinking at the surroundings I never intended to enter into.