The worst kind of slavery | Teen Ink

The worst kind of slavery

June 10, 2013
By SnehaChatterjee PLATINUM, Kolkata, West Bengal, India, Other
SnehaChatterjee PLATINUM, Kolkata, West Bengal, India, Other
45 articles 2 photos 62 comments

Favorite Quote:
Two roads diverged in the woods and I,
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference

I haven’t written anything for months. Perhaps, it’s over, I've lost my gift, my talent. I miss my suffocating throat. Life is finally shining but I’m stupid. I haven’t found the right place to carefully preserve my hard earned happiness. I don’t even know what to do with this happiness. Perhaps I’m not happy to be happy. It’s making me hop like an ape, losing control. I’m turning lazy and coward. It’s been months since I've showed my face to the bible.

They say that sadness rusts the soul, making it hopeless, faithless and godless. We have since the very beginning, cursed sadness to remain sad forever. Of course, people think that happiness is the only target to achieve, to live and to die for. And so, suicides continue to grow like an endless river. Money, clothes, houses, food, success and fame, all of them have become the standard thermometers of happiness. But I don’t understand why it is so. Happiness breaks into my soul all of a sudden, dances for a while, and goes away, as if it never knew me. So why make happiness my goal? Why call it precious? Because everybody else does so? I don’t want to be a clone of the crowd’s opinions!

Are happy people happy only because they have lived a life of happiness? Or because they've centered their lives on it? No! Then why give such VIP treatment to happiness?

It is the innocent tear, and not the laughter, that writes history. Great men are not slaves to this temporary worldly happiness. They give their lives a higher meaning, beyond happiness. Ordinary people curse the darkness and praise the light. Great men create happiness instead of chasing after it like a mad bull. My friend called me ugly. I have two options. I can cry, shout at her, leave her and find new friends who praise me. Or I could forgive her and say “I’m awesome ‘cause God created me, why be ashamed of what I look like!”

Why should I allow the crowd to adjust my mood and decide my emotions? Why should I become a slave to this happiness? I don’t need the approval of happiness to be happy. I just want to stop being scared of sadness. Because it is this best friend: - sadness that makes my bones difficult to break, to rise higher and to create light and freedom. So why set happiness as my goal? Even animals do that. Let’s fly higher and create things no amount of happiness can measure.

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