though the truth may vary this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
A couple of months ago, I was in that weird funk, and I felt really poorly about myself. I wanted to be happy, really, all I want is to be happy, I don’t care about being happier than anyone else, I don’t care about this goddamn thing and making people think I’m happy, I just want to be happy, for my own sake. I told Aqilah it’s so hard because sometimes I think my happiness is directly tied up with a lot of other people’s happiness, and I don’t want to make them unhappy, but I don’t want to live to make someone else happy, either, you know. Aqilah turns fifteen this year, but she is very mature, she is the third sister in the household I live in, and everyone we know can tell she’s wise beyond her age. So she says, at her grand fetal age of fifteen years, she tells me “you don’t have to care about someone else’s happiness, not everyone can be happy at the same time. Imagine if Trump got his way and was happy because everything happens the way he wants, do you think you would be happy about it?” Then I realised, girrrrrrl, I know nothing about life and my sisters are the bomb. I cannot equate anyone else’s happiness with my own.
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