All this time I thought and I said that I wanted happiness. Yes, indeed I do. Everyone does. But defining happiness is where it gets tricky. We have been, since our birth, conditioned to think in sync to the social beliefs, and before we know, we become an inseparable part of the insanity that prevails. Society makes or kills the image of the man he sees himself. The craze to get accepted is what bounds us to the never ending loop of hypocrisy.
Like many other well known things, acceptance starts from within. As once a wise man said, nobody can possibly know what makes you happy but yourself. So, does this mean that the sacrosanct happiness belongs to the host only, because in most of the cases it is likely to be rejected by the society? So my question basically is: what is the point in being happy if there is no soul to share it with. But then again the statement that sharing increases the happiness is a belief of the very society I am pointing to.
It is mysterious how I feel convinced in conjunction with confusion by my guru’s philosophy. Yet I feel as if my true self is slapping my fake self and making me realize that there is no point in living a life whose parameters and boundary conditions are created by a bunch of hypocrites who not even in a light year distance care if I am in peace. It is strange how easily we accept distant things we see through our eyes and ignore things nearest to us, i.e., inside us. Funny thing is the bottom of the candle is always dark. So is this society really worth dying with a fake mask?
