Happy, feeling or showing pleasure or contentment. Feeling cheerful, cheery, merry, joyful, carefree. A small five letter word with so many possibilities and meanings. A word that you can see, on faces of love ones and random people you see on the street. Happy is what you make of it. Happy is a word so common, that we lose the reality of what the word means. So the question is, What is it like to be happy?

This emotion that everybody talks about, I know nothing of. Ive never been ‘happy’. I feel joy in certain things whether it be the sky at night, the scent of fall leaves, or midnight reading a good book. So I wave goodbye out my giant truck window and kiss my mother and father goodbye.

“goodbye fawn” my father says on the basic verge of tears.

“Please call me when you arrive” says my mother “and I want you to know that I have tons of faith in you. If you fail, don't be afraid to come back home”

“Thank you mamma, thank you papa” I say kissing them both “I love you both”

“Goodbye Fawn!” At the same instance they call after me as I start to drive away.

It’s not them I’m leaving. I’m not trying to leave anything, I have wonderful friends, a loving family, and everything a girl could ever ask for. But I'm not happy. Half of the time I feel ungrateful. But this just isn't me. Being here in sunny California. Let me explain.

I am Fawn Masters, I live in Los Angeles California. I'm eighteen and at the age of thirteen I was diagnosed with extreme depression. I've spent basically my whole life I being stuffed with pills and being told that they would make me happy.

They didn’t.

In fact, nothing worked. Because a year ago they told me i had incurable existential depression. I can't shake the overbearing dread that the world seems so fundamentally primitive, unjust, absurd, and meaningless. Or, I'm either angry and hopelessly-numb because I feel like little more than a monkey in some unknown accidental terrarium. Basically, living sucks.

At sixteen, I wanted nothing more to be normal. I was so obsessed with being like all my friends, happy and in love. That on one early October morning I took every single one of the pills I was prescribed and hoped for death. Luckily, (or less so) my little sister autumn who was eleven at the time found me foaming at the mouth. As I was told, My parents spend the day with doctors telling them I wasn't going to make it. Or at least end up brain dead. I was single highhandedly a miracle. I ended up without a scratch on me. The local church told me I was the work of god, I told the church that I didn't believe in there god because I wouldn't be sad if he did exist.
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So, I decided to leave.the state, I have no clue why I made the decision to chose New York. Maybe it was because it was far far away. Maybe its because, I wanted too. And I am sick and fucking tired of making everybody else happy.

Notes

I Hope you like this! Please read my other story's id be completely great full! (Revised work)