I think I need to rediscover what makes me happy. Although, that could be particularly tough, considering I'm still figuring out what makes me happy in the first place. Sometimes this sad fact makes me think that happiness is just something I'm not meant to do. Does anyone else feel like this? Obviously, I've been there...I've touched the Sun. But, if you ask a man who has spent years in a cave, "What does the Sun feel like?" he will probably respond with, "I'm not sure I can remember what that is..."

If life were easy, there would be no great stories. I understand that now more than ever. Maybe even the fact that I can express my thoughts means that I am indeed lucky. I picture myself a man who knows nothing, no pain, no joy, no love, no anger, nothing. And when I do, I feel more empty than I do at the depths of the blues. So, maybe, sadness isn't emptiness, but just another way of filling you up with life. Does that make sense?

I miss not caring about things.