I used to write a lot…

All of it was pretty depressing. Stories that made you sad, poems that ripped your heart out, and songs that described your inner woes. That was when I was depressed.

Now that I’m happy, I don’t know what to write about. It seems I was so in touch with being sad that I could put it into words. I’m not used to being happy. I don’t know what to do with this.

I suppose it is a good thing. A happy person writing about depressing things is most likely a sign of insanity. Now I just need to get so in touch with my happiness that it exudes from every pore and flows from my pen.

Here’s to peace, love, and happiness. <3