a.k.a. Amen to Angst
I am jealous. Of happy people. Not the ones who have it all, or are beautiful, or accomplished. But the ones who find it so easy to live in a permanent state of thrill, who pluck strains of joy out of the ether and plant them in their backyards. The ones who insist on being euphoric. Who slip into contentment like silk over skin.The ones who don’t have their radar trained on discomfort, pick up on melancholy or carry a goatskin bag of pathos straining to burst. The ones missing a depressive gene. Who take curry on ceilings and the loss of ways of living in their skip-hopping stride.
And have the temerity to smile through it all. And make me look at them warily and mouth “How?” while their limited processing capacities, mediocre life and sorry choices mock my wellsprings of angst. I can hear the taunts & chuckling all the way home and their sunshine gleams behind me, an even deeper shade of green.
But my sliver of glee dwells in knowing that you’re the one person in the world who will absolutely understand. And I toss happiness one last pitiful glance and speed-dial your number.
~~~
Updated to add: The Science of Lasting Happiness, an article in the Scientific American magazine.
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
Ha ha, very good one! But frankly, I wish I had the happiness gene too. It makes life so much easier 🙂
“Tis quite simple, you see
Clear as crystal to me
“Member the old cliche?
Count your bessings, i say!
Then Life is one hellava party!
Your writing vaguely reminds me of Hemingway. Your sadness too.
I’m with you in your breathless chastisement of the hypocrites. Of the poor souls who don’t know how sad they are until its too late.
I like your blog. Yours posts.
Regards.
Anjali: You’re telling me. 🙂
Aunty G: I sing the song every day
Count your blessings, they say
But there are always pangs
of jump-out-at-me angst
That keeps contentment at bay.
umashankar: Oh but I do not chastise. Just wistfully wonder at their propensity for joy. Thanks for stopping by!
I’m plain jealous too.Let’s start a club,shall we?
We can eat brownies,drink OJ and gleefully discuss the gleeful.
Vidya: I’m in!
damn.. i’m scarily close to that description
*rushes off to hunt for some angst*
the mad momma: How else would we write? And what about?