Probably, happiness is only an illusion. I seem to be drowned in it, not wanting a negative thing to happen. But now life seems to revolving around skepticism. Every thought, every feeling, every word is weighed and takes time to come out. Its not all that spontaneous anymore. The impulsive queen is seeming to rest. What's going on? Is this what is called "growing up"?
Its really hard not to let situations take over you. You probably need to be a boulder to not let circumstances affect you. You see things, understand them, try to make something out of it. If nothing comes out of it, bury it far somewhere. An unfinished painting maybe. Just a random scrawl of infinite colors.
But would you want to go back years later and try to finish it? Would you dig up everything you had hidden and almost forgotten, trying to rebuild it. No. But why am I seeming to do it. "Never again" doesn't seem to matter anymore. Why? Am I coming out of the numbness that had made me so comfortable all these years. Am I beginning to feel again? Am I falling in love?
In the quiet night as I look out of the window, why do I see a new face? Why do I wake up with the thoughts of someone new? Why do I smile when I realise what is happening? Why do I crave for that voice and that presence? Why do I go that extra mile for something this fresh?
Is this peace? Is this happiness? Is this getting over?
Is this love?