After a whirlwind 48 hours, I found myself on the Boston subway going home.

I was happy.

And I really was. For long time since before college, I looked at everything without any concerns/worries. I think happiness is that then, freedom from worries.

I am single, don’t have any troubling personal issues, or any family issues, no insane financial obligations, no looming concerns about the future, and (at least currently while on holiday) have the time and energy and money to do what I want to do.

Happiness is freedom then, freedom from limitations.

I’ve really enjoyed this past week. Maybe I’ll never find this feeling again because life happens in stages, and maybe I’ll never come back to this point. Is getting old actually about the gradual introduction and acceptance of negative externalities and emotions, like death, loss, disappointment. Or do we learn find happiness in smaller things when we get older? But that is also life, isn’t it?



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