Happiness Meter

For years I could never quite figure out what was wrong with my happiness…the fucking thing was broken!  No matter how hard I tried to fix it, the damn thing just didn’t seem to work, no matter how many times I tried to fix it, no matter what replacement parts were used, nothing quite seemed to get it to where it should have been…so like any hunk of junk that couldn’t be fixed, I tossed it.

I admit, I tried…in my twenties I fell in lust with a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, and got married, only to be found sitting on a rock, after our first child was born, pining over Monyka’s pictures.  Which resulted in retaliation in the form of the balance of pictures disappearing and a bit of adultery to rub salt in the wound…and even after I bought into ‘it was a mistake’ and ‘I’m sorry’…and got sold on ‘for the child’…My happiness meter wasn’t exactly fixed.

So on went life and many further years of a very dysfunctional marriage, among other  things and more broken parts to my happiness meter, there came a time when it was time to change the parts. And I eventually, started looking for new parts  and of course no matter how many parts I used…yes, used, I could not quite fix my happiness meter.  But my children and friends brought me some happiness, achieving certain goals brought me happiness, and even when all seemed good, my happiness meter just wasn’t in sync.  The damn thing just wanted to stay broken…so I tossed the piece of shit in the garbage.  However, I’m a stubborn prick, and there was one thing that stuck… The feelings and memories of a moment in time when my happiness meter was working.

Before Monyka, back when cassettes were still in style, I barely knew I had a happiness meter…lost early on when childhood wonder and innocence should have  been the fuel to run the meter.  Then when I met Monyka, I was happy, an amazing happiness where I knew I could rule the universe if I so desired…however, when I ruined that and broke my happiness meter, it stayed broken for a long, long time… but, I had a working happiness meter for a brief moment in my life, and somewhere in my quest to fix my meter, I never forgot what it felt like to have happiness and not have any reason to ask why I was happy…JUST BEING HAPPY was perfectly fine for me.

I never let go of that feeling…the feeling of a working happiness meter.

My happiness meter is working just fine now, don’t ask me how, don’t ask me if it is because of blah blah blah…I have no specific reason as to why, other than the fact that I love her, and through all the replacement parts, new parts, attempts at repair, I always knew there was only one way to make my happiness meter work.  Mony is the key to my happiness meter working perfectly.

Now for some of you more manly men, you might think this is just all mush and pointless sweetness, trust me, my happiness meter makes me a lot meaner and tougher now, than in my darkest most angry moments, because I am stronger have more to fight for, more to live for and will go home to happiness and love.  There was a time I succumbed to a cold, emotionless, existence, but love like this is  not something that can be overlooked or denied as the fuel for everything…and if everything can be summed up into one thing…it’s a happiness meter.  Trust me boys, my happiness meter is bigger than yours, but I hope you find one or fix yours.

E. Vincent

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About E. Vincent

Artist, Entrepreneur. Designer, Painter, Muralist, Illustrator, Writer. Business Analyst and Developer, Photography Caddy, Father, Lover, Fighter, Friend. INDESTRUCTIBLE, UNSTOPPABLE, INSEPARABLE, A Child of Destiny. Lover of Rembrandt, Da Vinci, Degas, Monet, Varga, Huerta, Royo, Adams, Swan, Lee, Warhol, Clarke, Bradbury, Serling and many other masters of the creative universe View all posts by E. Vincent

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