I Was Happy In My Happy Place

I was happy in my happy place. Happy. Happy in my happy place. I was happy in my happy place and I didn’t want to leave. Please believe me when I tell you that! No, I didn’t want to leave. Can you imagine what it was like when I had to? Can you imagine? Can you imagine how that hurt? Perhaps you know – perhaps you know from your own experience? Perhaps something similar has happened to you? Perhaps you had to leave your happy place when you didn’t want to? I really was happy in my happy place. I really was happy in my happy place but we’ll say no more about it. We leave it at that – there’s no sense in raking over the past! What do you do when you see the past? Do you walk away, or do you walk over to it with your rake and start raking it over? I know that’s what I’d do… I’d attack it with my bloody rake, that’s what I’d do! I’d bloody attack it like some kind of mad deranged demented psycho-bastard! You’d have to hold me back, I tell you. I’d need some serious restraining. Me and my rake. Me and my rake. Going at it hammer and tongs – raking the fuck out of it. Going pure mental like a pure mental bastard. It’s not politically correct to say that these days, is it? Never mind about that, though. We not being politically correct here. This isn’t one of those politically correct forums, don’t you worry. Far from it. You bet it isn’t. ‘When you see the past, what do you see?’ someone once asked me. Well, that’s a hard question for me to answer you see. I don’t see anything. I just see lost opportunities. I just see a hellish landscape of fear and desire. I just see the nightmarish hellscape of my own tormented mind. I can never forgive myself for not appreciating my happy place when I was in it, you see. I didn’t actually appreciate it at all; I was actually always complaining about how crap it was! I was always disgruntled, I was always out of sorts. I was always finding faults with my happy place. ‘It’s not in good enough because of this, it’s not good enough because of that’, I was always whining. I was indignant, I was outraged because it was never good enough. I was always making a fuss over all sorts of trifles. And now all I want is to be back there! ‘So you weren’t happy in your happy place’, you point out, spotting the glaring inconsistency in my narrative. No indeed, I reply. You’re quite right – I wasn’t…

 

 

 

 

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