I would like to call the period in which I write a “happy medium”
being neither too manic or depressed to find the net of a correct size
to catch the fireflies of thoughts who die out if I think too hard
while I’m extremely happy or on the edge of a cliff I don’t remember climbing
in order to find the correct perspective on my most humbling pursuit
which I never meant to start, I’m still running without meaning
trying to keep my thoughts still, as I’m quaking in the wake of truths
spilt on the counter of youth, caught up in stale beer
which helped to calm the nausea you never told anyone of
except the ex who knew there were twins, however, both ended together.
Now I sit here waiting, hoping for clarity and a dash of depression
As happiness is not a medium to write in.
I miss the sound of her voice and the color of her hair.
I miss the smell of tomatoes ripening on summer vines accompanied by the smooth texture of paper beneath fingertips.
I miss the irony of innocence complete with virginal nightgown and the misconception of a future.
I miss the time before I knew what wrong was, when being meant simply being, not judging every fleeting thought or feeling for what it might or might not be in the grand scheme of things.
I miss the simplicity of seemingly being a young girl taken care of by her care takers, those chosen for the tasks they chose to be chosen for.
I miss being wanted by those beings who were nothing but greedy, needy things that succeeded in nothing but needing.
These are the things I miss most and I feel amiss without being used for something to get somewhere, so maybe my life is beautiful, just where it needs to be, not being abused.
True happiness does not gloat.
It has neither envy or greed.
True happiness uplifts everyone around.
It wants nothing more than for all to feel content.
True happiness is a conscious effort.
It takes simple acts of kindness to understand the place for sadness.
True happiness is voracious in consuming small hatreds.
It alters the self-loathing we all feel at times, teaching positive vibrations.
True happiness is not obtained by wants or needs.
It can be attained by consistently making considerate motions.
True happiness is not affected by circumstance.
It is meant to be lived as a lifestyle, to be believed in and embraced.
True happiness is not just another out of reach concept.
It is not easy, but it can be accomplished.
I am convinced I know nothing
when asked for specifics.
I appreciate vague ideas I can misconstrue,
so that I might get ahead in a conversation
I have decided is uncomfortable.
I am wary of subjects I am familiar with.
Undue questions are deceiving.
As if my abilities to attend to small details
were an indication of intelligence,
or a supposed lack thereof.
I get no reference to this, that, or the other
despite entertaining ideas I have never care for.
Unconditionally distraught by inconsistent evidence
brought on by unfocused determinations,
each leading away from the other.
No boundaries to limit new horizons
discovered by the light of the moon
on a night it nearly lost itself
eclipsed by the eternal sun.
There is commitment in adventure
a contract built between the known
giving leeway to the unknown.
Exploration of perspectives
leads to eventual new perceptions
maturing into an inexplicable sense of self.