Maybe happiness isn't found in finding yourself.

...perhaps its in pretending to be someone else.

As I was laid on the bed earlier, shattered from yet another day of work and battling anxieties.  I looked around and took in what my partner and I had made for ourselves so far.  This house was finally beginning to look like ourhouse.

Then I started thinking – was this what happiness was.  Had I imagined that I would be living in what was my Gran’s house when I was 13?  No.  I hadn’t even imagined my Gran passing away.  Yet at that time when I did sit there reflecting to the future, I’d thought that I couldn’t actually imagine life after 30.  I don’t know what I thought back then.  Perhaps I’d hoped to be married and have children by the age of 27.  Yet anything beyond that was just black.  Try as I might I couldn’t think of what the future would hold.

Now being an adult all I do is reflect back to the past.  It was like when 21 happened life stopped looking ahead, but began to look back.  And it’s during these looking back moments that I mused upon one thought.  Wasn’t I so much happier as a youngster purely because I spent so much of my time thinking I was someone else.  Most of the time I was daydreaming that I was some other character – Sabrina, Hermione even Mary-Kate and Ashley.  I was always someone else.  Never plain old me.  And I was happier then.  Being me just isn’t a happy place in comparison.

However is this just because I’ve become an adult?  A boring old adult with no imagination.  Having to run from place to place without a moment to stop and think about myself.  There’s always something I should be doing or some responsibility that I ought to be doing.  There’s no place in all that to just live life and just be happy.

Perhaps for a day I’ll think again that I’m someone else.  Alleviate all the responsibility and just become not-me.