I’ve thought to myself a lot a lot of times what I will be like when I reach the peak of happiness. I’ve never felt it yet but I don’t know if I ever will. But often times when I imagine myself to be at that peak of happiness where I can’t feel happier,
I’m standing on a mountain, overlooking maybe something beautiful like a sunset or a sunrise, or little houses scattered on top of more mountains. I don’t know why that is beautiful, but it always is. And I’m always alone. It’ll be somewhere warm, it has to be so I can achieve the optimum level of temperature and comfort when I am my most happy self. It is hot, I have a tank top. It is pink. I am standing on top of a mountain, overlooking a bunch of beautiful shit. I must’ve been tired. I have both my hands raised up in the air, and I’m still looking at all this beautiful shit.
I’m diving underwater, I lifted my head up, I looked up at the blue sky. I’m tired, I’m alone. the weight of the oxygen tank is firm and it is heavy. I can taste saltwater in my mouth, I am gasping for air but I am laughing, or smiling, or both. I looked up at the sky and a bunch of strangers’ face, and I’m still looking at all this beautiful shit.
But both these scenarios have the same outcome. Because I always end up thinking to myself, tired, alone, lifting my head gasping for air from the saltwater, lifting my hands to try to touch the clouds on the peak of a mountain somewhere, and I think to myself “Well, now what?”