Why You Should Never Write About Happiness

Because when you do, you start your day with your car being backed into, and although you tell the woman not to worry about the damage on this fine spring morning and send her on her way, thinking that she’ll pay it forward and karma’s goodness may just end up knocking on your door, it just doesn’t happen like that.

Instead, on a beautiful drive home from work, you get the privilege of passing him walking down the street that still connects you, even though you are the absolute furthest thing from being connected. He hasn’t moved apartments, his gait hasn’t changed, the name emblazoned on the back of the softball jersey is the same. And apparently your want to run up and touch him and know him again hasn’t budged much either.

And this time you make it one block before crying, even though it has been so long and life has gone on in countless ways and directions. Because in a split second you never want to go out on one of these blasted dates ever again, or invest your soul in anyone ever, ever again, because it all just ends up like this down the road anyway.