another sunny day. I'm lucky I know.. but where is home?
The event has struck. I'm only sitting here in the aftermath. Under flourensence, caught between various thoughts and past experiences that only bring up one question, and that's why I'm not feeling as happy as I should? Am I simply too vain? Where does life begin? Where does happiness begin? The age of innocence no longer exist. Guilt shadows our everyday events. We question most daily events, emotions, and experiences to the point where we begin to blame only ourselves. Where does that all end? Do we, as individuals make our own fate? And do we seek a certain set of consequences based on every action? Life continues to make it's mark in mystery. At the start of a new month, I sit in partial guilt wondering if my happiness has begun? Where does stress partake in the individual feeling of your true happiness?
Do the questions we ask overshadow the answers we're given?
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