A Kind of Happiness

Sometimes, life just feels like sadness. When the sky only changes from light grey to black and back again. When you step outside and the boogers freeze in your nose. When the cappuccinos just aren't dry enough, and the lattes are just aren't sweet enough, and I-asked-for-190°-not-160°. When definitions, compositions, and text editions seem to replace the expeditions, ambitions, and free volitions...point made.

It's these times that I want to curl up in my llama sweater, eat bagels, and wait until the planet becomes a better place before turning on the radio or going outside. Because my heart just hurts for the too muches, not enoughs, needs, buts, and can'ts of this world. And around this time, there seems to be an obscene amount of those.

In my nerdy, delusioned mind, I am convinced that Harry Potter is real, and that every year when November rolls around, Dementors come and suck people of their soul happies. It explains everything, really.

This year though, I'm feeling rebellious. (Side note: One time, a friend of mine told me I was the least badass person he knows...I reject that.) I'm keeping my soul happies. Because even though the sky is the color of nasty, over-cooked egg yolks, and people have freaky and unnatural expectations of their Starbucks, the world can still be beautiful.

Expecto Patronum, yo.





Bless him.