What makes one person happy and the next sad?
When I was little, my grandmother worried that I wasn’t a
happy child and I have heard that she referred to me as “solemn Ken”. I don’t
think that I was a particularly sad child, I just kept a lot inside. I was the
second child and it is possible that anything I had to say had been said
already. If I am to be totally honest, I suspect I felt a little disconnected
with pretty much everything. Maybe everyone is like that, maybe that is the
thing in life that I need to work on. Maybe the key to life is to somehow learn
to cope with being disconnected.
Interestingly, I am getting very uncomfortable thinking
about this. It might be that even though I believe myself to be happy, I am
just happy on the surface. It is kind of like pudding that has been in the
refrigerator for three days and has leather like skin on the top but is still
soft and squishy underneath.
I think I’m done for tonight. It doesn’t make me happy or
sad, it just is.
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