Happiness

Happiness has become a commodity I am rarely afforded. The numerous media channels to which I am witness, has shaped my judgement of happiness. I am aware of how happiness should be acted, experienced and felt. Yet if I dare to steal a moment for myself retreating to the solace of my own space finding a simple pleasure between the pages of a book, I feel guilty as though I have cheated on myself. It is as though I am cheating on my happiness, failing to treat it with a supposed dignity needed to warrant it a successful happiness. I am a lazy lover to myself failing to woo my happiness, never quite buying the right flowers. Yet I feel exhausted, a lover wanting to role over wishing life could be simple again. 

Quite simply, am I in love?

I have been driven to the brink of insanity as within a small window of time, I have found the shadows of a dark figure creeping on the walls of my mind. His calming nature and generous personality has thrown me naked into the arms of a giant, battered, bruised and thirsty. Previously productive time has been stolen and replaced by an idleness I have never felt before. Until a few short months ago my life had been a gift solely given to me, now it wants to be shared. My friends and family have begun expecting me as part of a two, him and I, my Matthew.

This short blanket of time has left me blinkered, willing for time with him, I feel as though I love him. I am gladly aware that I have intense feelings for him, but is this love? Is it possible to love him having only known him since Easter? 

Perceiving time as an illusion, allows for the wild entangling dreams of romance unconstrained by the relentless ticking of a clock. The removal of boundaries and realties allows me to love him many times over. But I find my grounding, as my watch vibrates in my ear, its volume loud enough to hear from the opposing end of my bedroom, as it shouts each passing second. The watch has become a symbol of my ever passing youth, granted I am but a petite 22year old yet within our modern society I am old, it would be deemed inconceivable for me to pursue a career in marketing. My delusions of romance are short lived. Time stains my daydreams of adventures and escape whilst the mountains of books on my desk remind me of who I could and should be.

Instead I am living in a state of constant bewilderment, as every mundane movement is a possible conversation with him. Ramblings of many other sources could possibly lead to a diagnosis of love, but why so young should I fall in love. Every other part of my life is driven by logic, even understanding my multivitamins I read the label everyday, so why should I allow my emotions to spiral in the opposite direction of my head.

The ever-expanding mounds and forms of romantic literature force us into a state of drunken love as though this will numb us to modern society. For women this is far worse having been raised on the tales of Cinderella who is rescued by prince charming from the hands of her wicked stepsisters and other beautiful women each with a destined soul mate, even Barbie had Ken. I fear I am being driven mad both by this new person in my life and by every other tale of perfected love.  We are led to believe that without another we cannot be measured, understood as living.

Have I created an illusion of love around this relationship, so that I feel as though I have become a productive member of society? Conforming to the romantic literature, which guides us into marriage, families and banal careers as though this is the true way to led a fore filling life? Am I fearful of spending my impending thirties dancing with imagined babies like Ally McBeal and so as a reaction have forced my self to love this person? Drained every ounce of his personality which I may find enticing so that I find him attractive thus creating a relationship and avoiding a life still seen as abnormal, being a single unit. Or has my heart metaphorically speaking defeated my grey matter?