I should be fulfilled. I should be content. I should be happy. I should be savoring the beautiful life I have.
I have a fairly decent bill of health. I have a beautiful, caring wife. I have an adopted kitty who's my furry, adorable best friend. I have two supportive parents who love me and would do anything for me. I have a good job and enough money in my bank accounts. I have lots of hobbies; lots of interests; lots of passions. On the surface, I seem to have everything a person should need to be happy.
One of my favorite artists, Janet Jackson, once said, "There's nothing more depressing than having everything and still feeling sad." Somehow I know exactly what she meant.
I often feel that happiness was something never meant for me. As if it's a hand dealt to many, but I was never even invited to poker night. I don't want to complain. I don't want to seem ungrateful for what I have, because I never was. But something inside me is just not right. There's a void where beautiful things should be.
I am working to try and fill that void. But it is a long journey.
This journey is very hard.