I don't want to be happy anymore. I am done chasing dopamine and serotonin. I just want to feel whole. I just want to eat, sleep, go to work, return home and do it all over again for days after days and never feel a thing. It is okay if I don't feel happy anymore. I just don't want to feel empty again, that sudden wave of anxiety, sadness, and foreboding that consumes me when I am alone. I don't want to turn off the lights at night and then stare up at the ceiling thinking why I am never enough for people, and why everyone can just easily choose someone over me...why they can never hurt them but can hurt me, and why I always, always, always lose everything like sand flowing through my fingers.
Human beings no matter where they go in the world, will always seek home: in places, in people, in things, and in food. Perhaps because at the end of the day one wants to be vulnerable and yet are loved. We search for a setting where not the flesh, not the bones, but the very soul beneath it is adored and cradled like a newborn, squealing, and needy for love. As long as I lived with my family, I never realized the worth of home, unless one day, I was out in the wide world, alone, apprehensive, and being indoctrinated by societal norms every single day. The only pockets of peace that I was left with was a 'chosen family': a farrago of strangers that I met, and before I could decide to love or hate them, I was entangled with them like wollen strands in the mesh of a new warm cardigan. I have lived with a plethora of strangers, loved them, held them close in my most vulnerable moments, and then cried bitterly when we parted. After a time, both parties agreed on their fate and mo
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