I’m Terrified Of Happiness


I am happy. I am in love; I have a roof over my head, parents that love me, a 4.0 GPA…yet tonight I cried. I cried because I’m terrified I will lose it all. I’m terrified to be too happy. I am haunted by that Charlie Brown quote “I think I’m afraid of being happy because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens.”

How do other people let themselves be happy? My Instagram feed, my newsfeed, my friends…they boast their happiness. They are not ashamed or scared; they do not think that if they embrace their happiness it will disappear. So why me, why am I like this?

I feel all my life I have been cautious. I was scared to be myself, worried what others would think, worried they wouldn’t like me. I was called annoying when I was younger; I guess that taught me to not be overly enthusiastic about anything. I found myself turning into an extremely cynical person as I entered my twenties. Love is not real, life is slavery, everyone is programmed like robots fed the same bullshit its all lies lies lies. Sometimes I believe happiness to be equated with stupidity. You can only be happy if you’re blind to the infidelities of the world, to the sickness of human nature. How can one be so keen and enthusiastic about a world that promotes so much death and hatred?

Besides filling every stereotype of the worldly educated English major, I found myself ashamed of my cynicism. I think its good to see the world through a realistic lens, but then again rose-colored shades are not that bad either. Today I am in love; I am free to be my true self with someone for the first time in my life. I am so extremely happy that I am absolutely paralyzed with fear. I wish I could embrace the corny things in life, post love quotes and pictures of us kissing, but if I show off my love…it will leave.

I’m not sure if this is a condition of my upbringing or just something every postgrad experiences. Sometimes I feel as if our generation is taught how to wallow around in self pity. I mean how many articles do you read telling you its ok to be a sad depressed lazy bum, that not having a job is OK because no one else does either. I’m not sure how much this has an affect, or if I’m really alone in this feeling.

I know no one is alone in this world, but sometimes I wish I could really embrace the happiness of life, hold it so tight that it should explode, but believe it wont.