Given a chance of happiness, why do we look at what makes us happy, and suspect that life has some ulterior motive for its good will, and therefore is very possibly about to pull the carpet from beneath our feet.
Sometimes I feel like Charlie Brown kicking the football. Given the opportunity to really kick it, will I do so, or stop at the last minute because I can't believe Lucy won't pull it away?
Perhaps, I get most of my joy from seeing others in happy situations, ultimately feeling uncomfortable being in that place myself ? I know we all deserve to be happy, but I wonder if part of our drive toward ultimate happiness comes from the fact that we are still trying to attain it?
Yeah - I know - pretty deep for a Wednesday.
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