Happiness is not real. Happiness is a concept invented by a desparate five-year-old with a wish of non-stop milk and cookies ... a scenario of neverending bliss and warmth that only occurs in a Leave It To Beaver episode.
It was not not the bubbly cheerleader stomping on the sidelines with a pearl smile and shiny blonde hair. She was fake and existed only in the etched memories of bystanders.
Perhaps it is a like a moment during a vicious war when a soldier takes a second to smell the honeysuckle of a new fresh summer though too soon has to turn around to the char.
Though fleeting, it may be best to accept the real neverending story ... the one of the ordinary ... the daily ... the mending ... the broken ...
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