Am I Content

should i feel happy? 

no.

“happiness” is a concept made up by those who want others to chase an unachievable peak that never lasts and only leads to more suffering.

 so a better question: am i content?

content is more broad,

 more versatile, 

more long-lasting.

content is the achievable downgrade to happiness. 

however it’s better than being unhappy and always searching for more. 

to be content is to be able to

make it through this life without wanting

to throw yourself off of every building you see.

am i content?

it’s a new feeling to me- a foreign one, in fact.

life has been evolutionary competition.

 if I can be the smartest, 

the most adaptable,

 the most attractive, 

the most

then I may just guarantee my survival.

I want to make it to tomorrow.

...

the breathtaking humor of the irony. practically a cruel joke of how my life has always been about “survival” when it seems at times that i’ve hardly wanted to live. 

let’s count the many times has the moon passed around the earth whilst i hoped to never see the sunlight again.

the number is far too many to even admit without someone barging my little, brown, door down and forcing me to confine to too white walls.

but You.

You didn’t barge down my door. instead, You left gorgeous bouquets on my steps, handwritten poems upon my door mat, switched my door bell with the sound of melodic chimes. 

and finally, You knocked.

it was gentle and barely audible unless one’s ears were open for it. And admittedly, at first mine were not, and the dozens of times after they still were not.

until one morning, the sunlight peered in through my door frame. 

it was lovely, warm, and inviting.

 the light invited me closer, and closer, and closer.

 until finally my cheek rested so closely to the door that I finally heard

tap tap tap

and finally all of the signs made sense.

the gifts weren’t blinding mirrors aimed towards the soft sunlight to invade my home and steal me of everything i’d worked so hard to earn. no, they were authentic. they were caring. they were the warmth.

so i opened the door.

from that moment onwards, life was not about surviving. life wasn’t about being the most.

life was You. life was being able to live, breathe, and experience with You. life became Your warmth and i refused to continue shivering out in the cold.

and there were happy moments, but “happy” isn’t infinite. 

happy isn’t trips to grocery stores, happy isn’t arguing over video games, happy isn’t being taken care of after a night of drowning memories with whiskey.

but content?

feeling safe in Your warm arms, unadulterated honesty, promises of the future.

content?

hot showers laid against Your chest, sharing our favorite videos, petting the cat.

am i content?

counseling each other’s traumas, unable to read Your sign language when You had tonsillitis, crying over the additionally softness gathering in my stomach from too many meals bought for me out of love.

I am.

Author's Note

I've been playing around with formatting, but I think this may be too much. Trying to find that sweet spot. Thoughts?

Reviews

[Amadeus the Loveless]

Loved reading this. It's interesting to think that embracing content can make you snap out of survival-mode and flow freely. With happiness, nothing is ever good enough. With content, you get to decide what's good enough for you! Making that choice definitely feels like a rewarding pat on the back.

Regarding the formatting, it personally distracted me a bit when i got to:

"to be content is to be able to
make it through this life without wanting
to throw yourself off of every building you see."

I enjoy the staircase feel in "content is more broad, more versatile, more long-lasting" though. Maybe using indents less often will help? I really like the formatting in the last 8 lines, it's impactful!