I am happy.

Just a new definition of happy.
An aware version. An evolved version.
A less naive, less opportunistic, version.
My mask is gone.
I am not the woman I once was.
An inspected soul is a vulnerable soul, and I’ve been keeping mine under the microscope lately;
It’s bound to be bruised.

I am happy.

Just not the old definition of happy.
I no longer steal my happiness from thin air.
My happiness no longer exists without reason, without cause.
I earn it. I seek it. I fight for it. For the first time in my life, I have to work for it.
I am not the woman I once was.
Happiness has become an endangered animal in my world, and I hope to preserve it.
It can be sought, but not contained.

I am happy.

Just not your definition of happy.
I’ve learned that pleasing you, pleasing the world, and pleasing myself are mutually exclusive concepts.
Life is challenging. Life is real. Life is evolution.
I have stripped the facade and stand naked before the world.
I am not the woman I once was.
It doesn’t make everyone happy;
I guess I have to live with that.

I am happy.

Just not my definition of happy.
Yours, theirs, mine.
Perhaps it’s all the same, an unattainable goal.
Introspection shines a light on the parts I didn’t want to see.
I am not the woman I once was.
Acceptance?
Maybe it’s time to find a new dictionary.

~ Victoria Elizabeth