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The happiness in me

Modifié le : 2017/03/19

Life is suf­fo­cat­ing and bor­ing, some­times, don’t you think ?

—I rarely, if ever, get that impres­sion. I cer­tain­ly have my prob­lems and anx­i­eties. How­ev­er, despite all the stress I have had in my life, it seems to me that I have always had the strength to continue.

—You have hap­pi­ness in you.

— Maybe…

—There are days when I would­n’t mind dying.

—You must­n’t.

—To die ? Come on, it would be easier.

—It will be eas­i­er, indeed, one day, but for now, I will continue.

— You see, you have hap­pi­ness stuck to your skin.

I smile inside, puz­zled. The con­ver­sa­tion takes place on one of these meet­ing boards. I’ve known the man for about five years. We nev­er met, but we almost did. We had an appoint­ment at a restau­rant. He nev­er came, apol­o­giz­ing lat­er for a prac­ti­cal “some­thing urgent to do”.

This friend is in the clos­et, which I abhor with­out con­demn­ing, com­fort­able as he is in his bour­geois life, well paid by his uni­ver­si­ty, on the verge of retire­ment, seek­ing the silent com­pa­ny of men while his wife and chil­dren sleep in oth­er rooms.

He feels trapped and there is no point in lec­tur­ing him about the deci­sions to be made, because I have as many beams in my eyes as he does. I can under­stand his suf­fo­ca­tion, but I can­not be for him that sub­sti­tute of hap­pi­ness that he will suck as a bear and his hon­ey. There are many of these missed appoint­ments, with peo­ple who only cling to your branch­es for the dura­tion of an acci­den­tal gust. I am the first to believe that it is nec­es­sary to kiss many toads before meet­ing own’s Prince Charm­ing and I can under­stand that one clings to the one found, even on the Inter­net, even if the fairy tale is only a bad truth passed through the mill of con­ve­nience. It is as easy for me to claim that I con­tin­ue with resilience and sim­plic­i­ty. I too am dying in my lit­tle clos­et of uncer­tain­ties and, as I grow old­er, I am find­ing rea­sons that do not nec­es­sar­i­ly hold water.

A year ago, I had some strange sui­ci­dal thoughts. When I saw the sub­way train arriv­ing at the sta­tion, I imag­ined myself rush­ing ahead. My body told me to do it. It real­ly dis­turbed me, to the point of mak­ing me think about what I want­ed in life. I don’t think I have the courage or con­vic­tion to end my life, because things are pass­ing by and the mys­tery of my life is cast­ing too strong a light on me for me to turn away from it so happily.

I am more and more else­where, it seems to me, hap­py with my cur­rent sit­u­a­tion, even if, in many respects, it is frag­ile. I am com­ing out of the finan­cial slump in which I got bogged down (in fact, I man­age, up to the last news, to float). I have very good friends and I don’t think I’ll die alone. I pre­serve my happiness.

Last Sun­day, I attend­ed an agnos­tic bap­tism. The cel­e­brant told us, the most ecu­meni­cal­ly pos­si­ble, that we came from the same light. I see this light dai­ly, and I don’t real­ly need any fur­ther expla­na­tion. Maybe it’s just that I have this naive hap­pi­ness in me. I have these hands full of a cer­tain inno­cence. I don’t know. We could say that I am old enough not to care, that the game, for me, is no longer worth it and that, blessed I am to be hap­py and con­tent to catch a furtive ray of sunshine.

I don’t want to be both­ered by oth­er peo­ple’s shad­ows any­more. I am will­ing to par­tic­i­pate in their pas­sions, to know and under­stand their move­ments, to help them also to walk, to take a break with them, to take their paths or invite them to those of my inte­ri­or gar­dens, but as long as their trou­bles are not vam­pire decoys.

I love the light, I breathe it. I want to live.

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