Anger never dies

Life isn't easy. Life isn't fair. Happiness isn't something unreachable, but it doesn't fall from the sky: you must deserve it, you have to fight for it.

Happiness is something everybody searches for. Who would be crazy to seek for unhappiness except for the crazy one? But what's happiness? Few people know, few people understand it because a lot of them think this is an universal concept while, actually, it is subjective.

Performance society tries to standardize this concept and those who lives in the immaturity constantly get frustrated by the constant feeling of unhappiness and emptiness. In this case, happiness isn't in the present time, but either in the future, lying in the hope that someday things will get better, or in the past, a time of sweet memories. This Eros love to the performance blinds and the individual gets incapable of questioning some things about oneself and the world and, consequently, of understanding the misery this one complains so much.

Laziness and cowardice are things so hard to fight against... snapping the bubble and leaving your comfort zone is so hard... “it's so comfortable to be small”, Kant would say... it's so hard to have the attitude to change: change yourself, change one's own reality. It's so much easier to curse and envy. It's so much easier trying to despise other's victories for the miserable of spirit feels less worse when feeling hurt by other's success and happiness.

In order to be happy, or unless feeling happy without appealling to its artificial means like drugs and anti-depressive pills one must, first of all, being humble to recognize one's own imperfections and vulnerabilities. It doesn't mean embracing the fail or being ridiculous. Ridiculous is thinking you're being ridiculous by confessing to yourself your own fears that might sound silly and childish, more ridiculous than this is having the romantic vision of life by thinking that happiness lies in a Hollywoodian amazing life or that is, necessarily, the standard of the society of performance.

Life isn't easy. Life isn't fair. Happiness isn't something unreachable, but it doesn't fall from the sky: you must deserve it, you have to fight for it. It includes some sacrifices and the path to happiness may be, ironically, torturous in the beginning. Leaving the comfort zone never is easy, letting go the tutor's hand and walking in total dark it's quite despairing, but if you want to be free, dare to break with your immaturity! You have to try at least! Falling, crying and being eternally traumatized with the pain will never help anyone to get anywhere, except if it has an appeal to the people's pity, that isn't neither a little virtuous and it is pathetic, it's being proud of one's own cowardice.

Projecting your own imperfections on others using them as weapon and shield may even sound smart initially, but who really losses with this? You may harm someone, but if this person has the minimum of maturity and self-love, he won't let himself to be affected by the words of someone who seems to have a disturbed feeling of pleasure in the sorrow and in gnawing hates. He just doesn't care, he's doing what the resentful child always wanted to do but was too coward to even try: he is being happy, he is living the life! That's way the feeling of envy and despise face to the other's success.

Nobody likes this type of negative people. Nobody likes people that are always complaining about the same problems every single day projecting the reason of their unhappiness on others. Nobody likes people that are always in the defensive ready to attack and that refuses help and refuses to help oneself. Nobody likes people that got traumatized after their first and only fail that start to think that nobody and nothing worth. That the world is bad, that people envy him, that everybody's an ignorant and that, as long as he hadn't born in a golden crib, he is destined to be a never recognized talented person. Then, he doesn't understand why the world turns it back to him and, thanks to his shameful arrogance, he thinks the world is wrong and unfair, but he's never able to recognize that HE is the problem. It's so much practical projecting this imperfection on another one and being sarcastic... Is it being happy?

Well, happiness is subjective. If an individual is happy gnawing hates, good for him, although it is very dubious. In order to be happy, it is not necessary to have all that the performance society implies for us to be and to have, and it doesn't mean as well, refusing everything it sells us. The most important thing is being in peace with yourself, doing what you like, being surrounded by people that are with you to plus, not to subtract you and to let you down, feeling bizarrely happy by trying to bring you down for the misery they spontaneously decided to live with.

References

FERRY, Luc. Qu'est-ce qu'une vie réussie? France: Grasset et Fasquelle, 2002.

COMTE-SPONVILLE, André. Petit traité des grandes vertus. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1995.

KANT, Immanuel. Answering the question: What is Enlightment? Königsberg: Büsching Magazine, September 30th 1784.

Sometimes I feel so angry at you

Look at us micro kids with both of our hearts blocked.

Sometimes I feel so angry at you. You can impact in my mood, usually for worse. And then I feel so angry at me and the anger I feel at you doubles because I feel myself extremely ridiculous.

Ridiculous because I notice I am a mere Eros' puppet, that my limbic system is defective. I keep on making the same childish mistakes, being a slave of my selfish desires, allowing myself to be threw by someone who's just giving me a shit! It seems I never develop the necessary antibodies to stop being enchanted by those who step on me, but no, I'm an accident masochist.

I hate myself for being extremely lenient many times and insist on thinking that everybody is good, that some people just have a hard temper to deal with but, deeply, they are lovely. It even sounds arrogant of me to think I'll be the one who will change everything, that will transform a violent pit-bull into a graceful pink-colored poodle.

But that's alright. I have never had the talent to pretend to be someone I'm not, I have never had the talent to pretend I have the virtues I still don't. I find myself now in this embarrassing situation of not knowing how to behave and policing the way I show you my affect. If I'm kind, you may arrogantly understand it as I'm really suffering of love to you. If I control my words, I feel like suffocating myself with a pillow on my face. I wish that the tactic of the measured care was absolute and obvious. I run the risk of torturing me by seeing you dating another one in the end.

It's hard for me to say that, even there's some trace of possibility that we may have some future, it's remote. If you really liked me, you'd be more receptive to my praises instead of always throwing me cold water. If you really liked me, you wouldn't try all the time to show yourself off as someone as intelligent and understood about life as I am. It seems like you constantly try to make me feel inferior.

In the few moments you were kind, maybe you were experiencing a moment of weakness and I was the fool of the moment that would listen to you without criticizing. Or because your options were scarce. Or because you had seen something good in me, until the moment you woke up and saw me just like another insignificant person in your life. Have you ever give me a chance? Have you ever tried to see something special in me?

No! It seems I'll always be someone you just don't dispose at all because for you, I don't make any difference. I can't see too much of you because you create barriers around you as if I was unable to overstep them. I'd like to know you better, but you don't allow me. In this moment, I'd like to be sure you're really an asshole. Maybe then I can feel angry at you in peace and feel better with myself.