Sometimes I think I am a very cynical person.
I'm happier than most, yes. Well, maybe not most, but a lot of people anyhow. I have things to be thankful for: I'm surrounded by great people, plenty of things I need, I'm provided for, loved by my family, I'm being educated, furthered, sheltered, loved. I have a lot.
And yet, happiness is not derived from what you have.
Joy is not a result of circumstances.
Sometimes I think I'm a very cynical person.
I have a lot, but I still want more. I have plenty of friends, but I still feel alone, and yet I have no wishes to get to know anyone new. I have so few responsibilities, but the weight of them and those to come is dreadfully crushing.
Sometimes I just have really awful days. Not on the outside, of course, but the inside. I can be a very hateful person, towards people, towards things, towards circumstances. I am a malcontent.
How hard would it be to look up at the sky every once in a while?
To have your feet on the ground, but your eyes on the stars.
Dreamers get let down, of course. But doesn't everyone?
When did I decide that dreaming wasn't worth it?
I need to be reminded of the little things, sometimes, I think.