happiness vs. contentment

There is nothing more for me to write, I tell myself. I have sunk back to my melancholy mood, and the world passes by like a haze of confusion through my eyes. And yet I should be happy, if only my happiness excludes that of the others, if only I were not easily affected by certain people's moods and actions, if only i would care less about other people's welfare.. then maybe I would be happy. I remember the answer a friend once told me when I asked her if she was happy.. "Just contented" was the reply. A very wise answer indeed. Perhaps shoegazer was right when he quoted Kahlil Gibran's prophet "Your joy is your sorrow unmasked,... if we are full of joy, it is because we have been hollowed out by sadness like a vessel waiting to be filled"

No, I am not hurting. I am devoid of emotions, and in this emptiness I open my eyes to the reality of the meanings I once accepted with closed eyes. Sometimes I don't know if I say too much and mean less or if my words are nothing but mirrors of my confused mind. I am like a dada painter, brushing a few strokes here and there, and passing off my work as a masterpiece.

I mask my words, for if I were to say too much, then a flood of emotions would rush out and drown me. So I choose my words carefully, until my writings and my self would seem like oil on water.

This is senseless.. I must stop now.

Later tonight, I will go home, walking along the same unlighted streets.. and I will remember.. I will recall words, both spoken and unspoken, and I shall be lost in thought once more..

Wondering why I feel so alone..

And yet I know, there is no other way I would want it to be than this.