Many people like to delude themselves (myself included) into the idea that they deserve happiness.

And for a long time I believed that till a late night talk with a friend lately. He told me through his own journey of self-discovery that happiness does not give a shit who deserves it or not, happiness goes to those who choose to find it, to allow it to infiltrate into its life by storm and potentially leave a trail of aching memories in its wake when it is done.

Happiness is a choice.

And ridiculous as it sounds, most of us ignore that choice.

Remember that survey you took a few weeks back to shut that annoying man outside your shopping mall? There were tick boxes everywhere and you massaged your temples while scribbling sloppy ticks. Now imagine that at the end of the survey, you see this question:

Are you allowing yourself to be happy? ☐ Yes / ☐ No

What will you answer?

In the time and age where things have taken a curious turn where the aching, miserable romantic has become the ultimate symbol of sexy, can we brave through ourselves and make a stand to be happy?

No. At least that’s what I would answer.

Being happy means you’re at peace with yourself. Being happy means you’ve forgiven yourself. Being happy means you’re completely free of the past obligations and future worries – being happy is living in the moment and nothing more.

But most of us - but I - can’t.

The past needs us to remember it, even if it kills us. The past needs us to commemorate the death of it like a decorated soldier. The past needs us to crawl desperately at it, at a time when all seemed happier and more hopeful. The past needs us to be guilt-ridden fucks and to be unforgivable.

The past needs me.

The past needs me to relive it every night and wake up desperate for salvation. The past needs me to beg for it to stop when it invades my mind with memories of a happier time. The past needs me to hold onto it so it doesn’t disappear. But most importantly, the past needs me to be miserable.

We are the product of our decisions and our actions. We are the decision on a midsummer’s evening and we are the last drunk at a bar. Nothing can change a past decision nor act. Nothing can put it away.

This is not another article embracing the miserable romantic.

This is an article from the miserable romantic.

This is my warning to you.

Don’t walk this path, or you’ll become so used to it that you’ll frown at the slightest show of happiness and question it. Don’t walk this path, or you’ll become so consumed by it that you’ll compare all your times today to the times of a yesteryear.

Don’t walk this path, or you’ll forget how to be happy again.