Happiness has never quite felt enough

When it rains in my hometown, the water doesn't wash away everything in its wake. It drizzles lightly and the sky doesn't change colors. The streets glisten for a little while and the water disappears into thin air as the sun makes its presence back. That's what happiness has always felt like. Like the dewdrops on the leaves that always dry out too soon, like the streets that never really quite fill up with water, like the gardens that always wait for a copious rainfall. Happiness has never quite felt enough.

Wouldn't you be surprised to hear that someone who seems to dance on air says that the air hasn't been enough but it is true. I have seen the bird take flight from a big, strong branch into the endless sky. The bird always seems to know just where it has to go but all I can do is look at it. I look at it and wonder how someone can be so sure of themselves. My uncertainty is like the jabbing rays of sun that come in the way of my rainfall.

I often trip and fall on the cobbled streets of my hometown. The pebbles, always too huge, the roads never fully finished and the bikes- oh the honking bikes that seem to come at me from every direction. That's it.

I would very much appreciate it copiously raining for once and washing away the unkempt mess we have made. Because when I trip and fall on my own insecurities, it comes in the way of my happiness. The constant noise my mind makes as it leaves nasty little comments in my head sounds like the incessant honking of the bikes that have the audacity to ride in the wrong direction.

Traffic at home does not know rules. Far too many flower buds in my garden have been crushed under the feet of the ignorant passers-by. When it rains, the tender little flower buds fall off their trees only to be crushed so cruelly. Far too many times, a perfectly fine rainfall was upset by an array of crushed flower buds. Far too many times, my happiness was interrupted by failures. Far too many failures make it impossible for you to be fully happy again.

Happiness has never quite felt enough. So when I laugh with you, I am waiting for the laughter to make a home in me. In my own eyes, I am searching for the sparkle I see in yours. I envy your ringing laugh. I never knew that sounds could be beautiful, too. While you calmly sleep at night, I hate that I hesitate. I hate that every second spent behind my shut eyes but breathing consciously bombards one mistake after another onto the curtain of darkness.

I hate that a feeling of insufficiency ushers in every time I fail to do what seem to be the simplest of tasks. I never seem to be fully happy and yet I find my cheeks hurting from smiling sometimes. I wonder how that can be. Because happiness has never quite felt enough.