Today, noontime, whizzing through Pennsylvania hills with Joy Electric blasting out of the speakers, smiling like an idiot, I wondered: how can something so simple as a spring day at the start of a weekend, a country road, and a familiar song fill me with a feeling that can only be described as Joy? Is this what it’s like to be normal? To inhale and rejoice at the smell of the air, the feeling of my body and the wind in my hair, the sight of the road ahead? Is happiness really so simply achieved? Aren’t I supposed to spend years in hard-driven striving and expensive therapy before discovering that it’s the little things that bring contentment?
I’ve not gone all perkygoff. I still mope as hard as ever. Harder, perhaps. I feel, that’s what’s so different. Is this what it’s like to be alive? Do you feel this much? Is being intoxicated with life more than just a silly meaningless phrase?