I once heard that one does not need to be happy in order to
live life, and this to me is the truest statement ever spoken. Sure the pursuit of happiness seems great
especially if you can grab hold of the elusive mistress of content, but yet the
moments when you long fully reach for her hand she seems to pull back, and
watch as you fall towards the Marianas Trench of sorrow. I sit here before you
with my short buzzed brown hair, wearing a t-shirt that painfully advertises
some new thing at my work, and just regular blue jeans. A working man pants I
always say, my jeans to me is a symbol of another days hard work, but also a
beacon of despair as the more I work the more my real dreams fade away. I sit
here your, “William get back to work! Your break was over one minute ago!”
