Something Borrowed

I have a very difficult time accepting happiness. I don't want to sound pretentious or self-righteous. So let me make my case.

Happiness is just being able to "be." (Isn't it?)

And if one was to be so consumed with what others expect them to be, then they aren't really being, are they?

It's not that I am rejecting the life I want to live, the life that will make me happy. It's that, all around me, there are people who have expected "different" things from me; different paths than the paths I have taken in recent years and other "things" along those lines. And maybe it's because I am a people-pleaser that this bothers me; that I am not living up to people's expectations. But then again, maybe it's because the "failure to meet expectations" standardized by others just plain hurts.

This state of anxiety that I am living in is driving me nuts. Constantly feeling like there is something bigger out there for me. Always feeling the need to win the affirmation of others.

These might be two different things, but as of now, they are two in the same.

When you were a little kid, what is it that you wanted to be? A firefighter? An astronaut? I wanted to be the President. (Now I don't know if you could give me the Presidency.)

Isn't it strange though, that we wanted to be all these things, these positions, objects, all these different titles?

And not once did we say as little boys and girls, "When I grow up, I want to be happy."

I want to be happy.

I want to feel safe.

I want to love and be loved.

While I would like to argue the point of whether I am "grown up" or not, these are all things that I want. And if I like to think that I am, in fact, not "grown up," then how much longer do I have? Is there an expiration date? A redemption date?

While I know the answer to this, I have a hard time understanding it and comprehending it fully.

Why is it so damn hard to get? Why can I not accept it and cash in on my rain check that I've been holding onto for so many years?

Do I blame it on the media - for portraying the desireable life, the correct timeline, and how everything should turn out, according to normal-ville?

Do I blame those who have had expectations of me?

Or do I blame myself.

For being too much of a control freak to just let go and live. For being too afraid of what could happen. For risking losing out on taking risks; risks that may or may not pay off. I guess that's why they are called risks.

Regardless of whomever I blame, the clock keeps ticking. Because, after all, this life is just something borrowed, right?