Locus
Everyone has that locus of happiness, that cicle encompassing the things that make one happy. It is large or small, entrapping or liberating. Above all, it is very personal and extremely varied. It could comprise special someones, favourite activities, jobs, food, memories, places, both metaphorical or otherwise. Each concentration is a unique blend. People unabashedly surround themselves with this locus, because it makes one, happy. Obviously.
What happens when something occurs and shatters a part of that locus you are intoxicated with? It could have been your life, the reason for your existence, dare I say.
Painful as it may be, one must remove that "ex-happy factor" which is now a decadent thorn in the flesh. It may be hard to axe it from that happy circle, but for the sake of your lifetime happiness, you must do it. You just have to, failing which you will one day wake up and realise that your entire happiness locus has been stained by that one thorn in the flesh, and your sense of happiness too elusive for you to grab hold of.
That in itself is an extremely frightening thought.
What happens when something occurs and shatters a part of that locus you are intoxicated with? It could have been your life, the reason for your existence, dare I say.
Painful as it may be, one must remove that "ex-happy factor" which is now a decadent thorn in the flesh. It may be hard to axe it from that happy circle, but for the sake of your lifetime happiness, you must do it. You just have to, failing which you will one day wake up and realise that your entire happiness locus has been stained by that one thorn in the flesh, and your sense of happiness too elusive for you to grab hold of.
That in itself is an extremely frightening thought.