There just happens to be a very beautiful thing such as solitude

They say there is no such thing as happiness. No one is ever truly happy. Happiness is something that is much sought after. We do it in such subtle, involuntary ways even. We always want a little more, a little better. Everything we do is to feel better than before. Why? Why is it so needed, that we are happy? Why can we not embrace sadness and welcome it? Why is contentedness to be found only in happiness? The need for things around oneself, people to interact with is so pitiable that one is scared to even question their necessity in life. Relations – the societal need for them surpasses their actual role. It’s all just sad. Ergo, even though one may try hard to find it, happiness cannot be found.

It probably doesn’t even exist.

Solitude is least appreciated when given without being asked for. I was close to contentment while I was living alone. I miss that house. I miss my evenings right after work. I miss the nights.

Sure, times were hard what with the periodic lack of resources, but I pulled myself by.

Here is a picture taken right outside my door, on a rainy day, just as the skies cleared up...

Will I ever be feel like that again? "Happy"?

It is a question that would not have an answer.