in the quest to be content with being alone, an absolute necessity is to find your happy place.
i didnt think id be writing this post. if i was looking for quite a sickeningly positive term, the opposite of the melancholy personality i profess to have and separate from my romanticising of sadness, i couldnt do better. i cringe to type out happy place, even as i cringe at my self absorption. which is why im writing this post, because ive come to the realisation that for me depression is a bit of a revel. A revel in sadness and suicidal thoughts. And its a bit like an addiction. Doesn’t feel great but its easy to get stuck in it.
a happy place grounds you into reality. keeps you there. makes you realise that there’s color in the world if you can only keep your mind at peace for long enough.
my happy place is sitting down in a cool room in front of a computer and pounding my thoughts out, with music blaring in my ears
my happy place is walking in the city streets and feeling the cool air on my skin and a drink in my hand
my happy place is cooking good food and eating it and tidying and cleaning my apartment until its something i can say im proud to have worked for
my happy place is what makes me feel that i could be alone, all alone in the world, and i would be ok. it’s what makes me feel like there is love, wonder, and beauty within me. within my own heart. and thats not all i want. but enough to survive.
these places ground me. they make me know in my heart that im not ready to die. even if this was all there was (and i know its not … oh how i know that theres more for me in store), i dont want to leave. i want to read one more book, drink one more drink, write one more thought, and discover one more thing about myself.
or two. or a hundred