Thoughts on happiness, childhood, etc

I’ve been thinking about happiness lately and how it’s always seemed to elude me. Of course I’ve experienced it in moments, but mostly I seem to deny myself. I usually have to force myself to do the things I know that I enjoy, as if I feel I don’t deserve it. Being sad or depressed is such a natural state for me, I fight with it on a regular basis. Sometimes it can be weeks before I realize it and then it’s only through symptoms. I’ll notice that I’m not eating, or I’m sleeping more, to the point where I’d rather be asleep than awake, or I lose interest in things I usually enjoy. It is only then that I realize and can begin to come out of it. As if by acknowledging it, it loses its control over me. I don’t remember a lot from my childhood, I only remember fragments; as if I’m remembering someone else’s dream. It always amazes me how much other people seem to remember. Maybe those were happy times for them; but I was always searching for an escape. Which I found in books; I could forget everything around me, my entire life, and become part of a different world. Until the book ends and forces me to return to this place. Dreams are another escape for me; in them I have completely different experiences; apartments, a whole other life that only exists in fragmented pieces in my mind; only accessible to my spirit, my sense of self, or my dream body so to speak. But back to happiness; it seems so fleeting to me, like a fragile state that can be shattered at any time and has to be treasured because it never lasts. I wonder if maybe for others, it is more stable…

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