Wrong goal

I’ve finally come to terms with myself that being happy is not what I needed.

Looking back at the years that passed, I have struggled in vain in an endless search for what was so-called eternal happiness, or tranquilty, or any concept near that. Whenever something doesn’t go my way, I always tell myself that it was because God isn’t the center of my universe. But I cannot force myself into thinking that. My religion tells me that all these things around me provide ephemeral peacefulness, and they would remain short-lived as long as I don’t offer myself wholly to the Lord. It was a pointless attempt. I know in myself that it wasn’t what I believed in. It was me thinking it’s just like jumping into the bandwagon. Things don’t work out the same way for me. Because I have doubts. Because I hate depending on others, be it the Lord. I wanted to do something. And that excludes dwelling on the belief people impose on me.

It took me so long to realize that what I needed is not to be happy. Everyone seemed had it all wrong, because happiness shouldn’t be what we should be struggling for.

I want to be strong. I want to be stronger. 

So I could constantly remind myself that it’s not always rainbows and butterflies. That problems will surface and resurface whenever and wherever. That living is not exclusive to being happy. That this world is a world of pain, and it’s okay to hurt. That emptiness crosses everyone’s lives every now and then, and it’s okay to feel it. That I can use that emptiness to appreciate what we have and reflect on ourselves.

I want to become strong to realize that all of these things around me are temporary and I don’t get to choose what stays and what goes. That at some point in my life, I’m going to be alone, and it doesn’t necessarily mean I’d be lonely. I want to become stronger to realize that I don’t need anyone’s approval, and if I want to achieve greatness, I have to stop asking for permission. I want to become stronger so I could face the fact that fear would constantly live among all of us, and it’s not okay to dwell on it. That I don’t need people to love me to learn to love myself. That I don’t need a lot of friends to realize my self-worth. That I have always been unique on my own, and comparison would only lead to arrogance or envy. I want to be stronger so I could face this dreadful existence with head held up high. So I could continue to fight on and move forward.

I want to. I need to be stronger.

So I won’t be afraid to reach out to happiness, despite knowing that it may cost me much. Despite knowing that disaster may follow. I have to be stronger so I could learn to toss my pride aside and see things from a wider perspective. I need to be stronger so I could learn how to love without holding myself back. Without always hiding a part of myself. Without apprehending what would come out of this and that. Without fearing to be vulnerable.

Courage. Strength. Fortitude. It’s not about happiness. It’s about being strong enough—mature, understanding, brave—to realize that happiness goes hand in hand with pain. That it may require tons of sacrifice.

I’ll be strong. I’ll be better.

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