Life they say is a dreadful void, and in between dark and empty days, there is sometimes a little unexplained twang of happiness. It is supposed to be these little breaks in the clouds that keep us going. But for some time now, I have lost even these little moments of happiness. The only breaks in my constant bitter sadness is when I see someone even sadder than me by sake of nothing but misfortune. It doesn't reduce my sadness, rather makes me even sadder, only less sad about my condition and more thoughtful about the human condition... how we are doomed by our birth circumstances... geography, economics, politics, social structure, to lives that are nothing but a struggle to stay alive. What does one who is doomed to suffering by birth stay alive for? The fear of the painful process that is death? The fear of what lies beyond? Does the blind man who lives on the street and begs for small change from people out for joyrides in their fancy cars ever feel any twang of happiness that makes his life worth the while? In the night he takes the little money that he collects and buys himself a bottle of country liquor that kills him slowly, or some low grade drugs that kill him faster and he gets high. That is the only twang of happiness he can hope for. Happiness is an illusion, a moment when you can forget the reality of your existence and take pleasure in it. Whether one needs these illusions to help them stay alive, whether one really has to stay alive? I really do not know.
