Happy

I forgot

what happy feels like.

Not joy—

I remember flashes of that.

Moments.

Temporary things.

I mean happy

in the quiet sense.

The kind that settles in your chest

without needing a reason.

The kind that doesn’t feel borrowed

or fragile.

Lately, everything feels measured.

Every smile examined

like I’m trying to decide

if I actually mean it

or if I just got good

at performing okay.

People ask

when I’ll finally be happy

like it’s a destination,

like one right choice

or one right person

is supposed to unlock it.

But maybe happy

is smaller than that.

Maybe it’s not fireworks.

Maybe it’s peace.

A morning

where your thoughts

don’t immediately turn against you.

A laugh

that doesn’t feel forced.

A moment

where being alive

doesn’t feel so heavy.

And maybe

I’ve been chasing

the loud version of happiness

for so long

I forgot to notice

the quiet kind

still trying

to reach me.