I have been asking myself what is real happiness and why do we want it so bad.
Is it our need to be contented and satisfied with what we possess and what we do in our daily lives? Or, is it that state when the meanings of sadness and its entourage of lonely synonyms vanish from our consciousness? Will attaining it, experiencing it and living it makes us finally happy?
From the movie Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal Lecter enigmatically commented in his macabre way of thinking what we probably do right now: we covet.
Yes, in search of happiness, most of the time we covet.
What? Material objects which are possessed by others more fortunate or, what else, happier than us. Ideal relationships we do not have. Or, anything in our definition that would make us happy.
Yet, it will not always be enough for us if we get it…
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