Ordinary Unhappiness


Are humans meant to be unhappy? My gut always answered with a solemn nod, and I never examined the question further. I had a vault full of arguments to support it, such as unhappiness motivating the human race to progress and thrive, or how evolution has no reason to care about whether or not the creature feels happy as long as it continues its lineage. The universe is cold and uncaring. Our unhappiness is a fixed feature of human existence that we are destined to endure.

Yesterday it occurred to me that I may be full of shit. Is everything above not more a snapshot of my psyche than an objective assessment of reality? If it tells me more about me than anything else, then what personal belief does all of that promote? I’m meant to be unhappy. That’s basically what it says. I’m supposed to be unhappy, and this becomes a filter through which I siphon all incoming information. What did the mescaline man say again? Until the unconscious becomes conscious, it rules our life and we call it fate or whatever?

It certainly did not help me how normalizing of unhappiness certain messages were. “Don’t chase happiness.” “We can’t always be happy.” “If you were just content, you would never strive for anything.” “Negative feelings should be accepted.” The subliminal message I get from all that is basically that I’m just supposed to bend down and take it up the—

Anyway.

I rebel against the notion unhappiness is something we’re supposed to accept to be our default. I certainly rebel against the idea it’s something I should just take on and live with. I’ve accepted it for years and years on end, and what did that amount to? More fucking unhappiness. Shocker. Who would've thought.

So, fuck that premise. I think I deserve to be happy, and I think you deserve to be happy, too. Drill it into your subconscious and go chase that happiness down with a club in hand and feast on it tonight at a bonfire.