Most people will tell you they are happy. They live happy lives. They have happy friends. But sometimes it seems harder than ever to find that ounce of joviality we swore we once possessed. How easily it slips away from us.

I can recall myself being happy once. OK, maybe twice. After all, happiness is fleeting, momentary. But when you’re a kid, I think we think that slice of heaven will be enough to fill us for a lifetime. It isn’t. The inevitable truth is that life sucks sometimes. People suck. Jobs suck. The world sucks. Allow me to express my sincerest apologies if what I’m saying doesn’t align itself to your definition of life, liberty and whatever else you’re living for, but it is my discontentment which forces me to examine myself more closely, to examine this world. My chaotic therapy. A chance to step back and see the world for what it truly is, for what we truly are. And what are we? We are human. We are fragile. We exist in a broken world, with broken people who live broken lives. We swear we’re happy, mostly because we have collected our fair share of riches or friendship or love, but what do we really have?

What’s wrong with us if that’s not enough to make us happy?