Contentment.

Am I afraid to be happy?

I've never truly been happy, I don't think. If I could describe my entire existence in a few adjectives, I'd choose...indifferent, apathetic, neutral. And that's, given the definitions of those adjectives, not bad. I'm not an excitable or terribly enthusiastic person. That's just not how I'm wired. So I don't expect myself to participate in overt displays of emotion, whether negative or positive, or to really feel them with any particular conviction. On a scale of one to ten, with one being absolutely miserable and ten being jubilant, I hover between four and six, occasionally dropping to three on the really bad days and rising to seven on the really good ones, only for brief moments.

I'll never be a ten. Hell, I'll probably never be a nine, either. But an eight... Someday I'd like to be an eight.

But the question before me is... Do I stop myself from reaching that? And do I do it because I don't know how to react to that kind of emotion? Or do I do it because I just don't know how to achieve happiness period?

Sometimes I think I can sense it, then I purposely sabotage myself. Especially with regard to relationships (or my lack thereof). When I feel that rare something for someone, I try to shut it down. Because I don't do feelings. I've spent years trying to convince myself I'm some kind of robot, and whatever love is, I don't want it. It's more complicated than that, I'm aware. I've had to give it a lot of thought. But if, all this time, I'd been able to be honest - not only with myself but with the other person - I may potentially be in a much different position right now. Of course I'm afraid of rejection. But I think I'm less afraid of that than I am something actually going well. I don't know how handle good things. (As evidenced by the fact that I'm twenty-seven years old and still can't manage to respond to compliments with a simple "thank you" instead of trying to trivialize whatever great thing it is I've just done.)

That's just an example. I feel similarly about my career path, for instance. That's a much longer story, but there are decisions I could have made that would have pleased me more in the end. But I didn't think I'd be able to succeed, and what if I did? Then what?

I like having something to complain about. I'll admit that. But I don't think I'm...that person. The one who needs to be unhappy in order to have something to talk about. I can talk about a lot of things. I do talk about a lot of things. But when I talk about myself... It's very easy to find something wrong. Sometimes it's me and sometimes it's everyone else. But it's always sixty percent bad and forty percent good (and I use that split as the justification for calling myself a realist instead of a pessimist). Is it really like that...or is that just how I want to see it because I can't cope with anything better?

Do I really want to be an eight? Or would I rather be a four because that's easier - because that's where I'm comfortable?

I guess I don't know the answer. And maybe I'm afraid to learn.