I told myself I would figure out this happiness thing. Honestly I don’t have the slightest idea of what happiness is. Maybe it’s just being too distracted to think about negative things. I feel like when people say they are happy it’s one of two things. First, that they are lying. The second is that found something to keep them content for certain amount of time. True happiness? Kind of sounds like a scam to me. I like the highs and the lows. I mean it’s not a great thing but it keeps things interesting. The lows make the highs better and I always learn something from the lows. Anyhow, Â I started to paint. Nothing that I paint makes sense. It doesn’t look good but it means something to me. My mom tries to make me feel good and say how beautiful they are. One person likes them. So that’s something.
Sunday was one of those nights where you’re doing good then everything hits you at once. Questioning everything. What am I doing with my life? Is my major what I really want? Is going to Sweden worth my time? What the hell am I doing after April? The typical type of questions that I think of all the time. It was different this time though. It left me with a worried feeling. I should have things figured out but everyday I wake up and just lay there being completely clueless. Absolutely everything is progress. Or at least that’s what my wrist says.
You know that second that someone asks what you want or something along those lines? Your stomach starts to get tight. I can talk for a lifetime but ask me to explain something that involves my feelings and I’m at a loss. Then again I’m over here wanting to know what people want from me. Where I stand and all that. I’m surprised no one has tattooed hypocrite on my forehead yet.
One day I want to write something that means something to someone. I don’t know what. Maybe it will be a letter or something on a bathroom wall. It will have an impact on someone and that will be enough. No one has ever said that to me before.




The thing is though she never took the easy way out. Each of her decisions has always been what is better for everyone not just what would be best for her. Working endlessly to provide for her family. Spending her days in high heels carrying around thirty pound trays of food. Â Raising three kids (I know that had to be a handful because I have my dads personality and look at how much work I am). To dealing with me at my worst. She’s one hell of a women.
I could name a billion different reasons on why I love her. The world only needs to know a few. She is one of the most accepting people I know. Her cooking is phenomenal. Anything I know about cooking is because of her. One time she was saying how the bus boys at her work took her to some rock concert, turns out she saw The Who.  She has always been open with me. I have a never ending amount of questions about everything.  I know I ask questions on topics that can be hard for her to talk about but she does anyway. She allows me to speak freely without judgement. While I know she doesn’t love every decision I make she has always supported me. We have our different opinions on how people should act sometimes (she was raised with the good ol’ southern manners), tattoos, and taking shots (she’s a bourbon on the rocks kinda gal).

