Hello all,

First things first -

A BIG HUG and thanks to all the Prosers who contributed to the happiness challenge. I am sure you all smiled while writing your piece. I know I definitely did. 

I have been on prose for nearly four months or so but it seems like I am here since eternity. It is one place where I can surely say that words connect the heart. I believe this place to be a haven where we can share our anger, disappointment, sadness and many other feelings without the fear of being judged. I have laughed out loud and felt a tear in my eyes just by the sheer power of words by my fellow Prosers. 

So I felt may be it is not a bad idea to share a few smiles and understand what makes Prosers happy (besides writing of course). 

Here is what I found -

Happiness is directly proportional to ICE CREAM & RAIN 

Happiness is the feeling of looking at your kids & family. The feeling of contentment that all is fine.

Happiness is the joy of writing

Happiness is the magical touch of nature  - a flower to bloom, a sunrise, dew on the grass ....

Happiness is the love that grows as we grow old with someone.

Happiness is the joy when we see others happy,

Happiness is the memory of the child inside you - lighting a camp fire, rollicking with siblings, cuddling the pets or just holding dad's warm hand

Happiness is the rebel which bubbles up against all odds.

Happiness is making a child smile,

Happiness is finding your loved one besides you whispering love into your ears

Happiness is the empty space of satisfaction after a long voyage or a good day at work

Happiness is a state of mind

There are many other ways we have written happiness and I believe more or less each one of us can correlate with most of the forms of happiness. The list could be endless all we have to do is find our happiness quotient because 

                  "Life asks us to be happy ... All we have to do is Listen"

I can feel my world,

Falling away,

Slowly each and everyday.

Come wind come

Rustle the leaves

Free us spirits

Take me, take me

I'm so done with all of you

Just drag me away already,

To reality,

So I can be fucking free.

Because I’m bat shit crazy! I told the police when they asked me why they were to take me to the hospital. I raced around the room stuffing whatever I could into a small book bag. My meds, a book, a journal, and some pens, all the while crying. What had happened to bring this on? Well first I’ll tell you that I deal with a few mood disorders and was just getting over being really sick. When a cold takes me down I have a really hard time remembering to take my meds, and with that combo it doesn’t take much to trigger me. My sister managed to trip all over my triggers that day and we fought. I ended up feeling useless and hopeless and like nothing I do was ever going to be good enough; I threatened to end it all. Now prior to this I was in the hospital the day before, for facial cellulitis. Which was an infection on the inside of my cheek, yea that was fun. They gave me antibiotics for that, and sent me home. I told you that because, here they call you the next day to see how you are doing and see if you were satisfied with care you received. Well I forgot that they did this, and they called me right when I was a sobbing mess on the floor of my room in front of my locked door. The guy on the other end asked me if I was okay, and knowing fully well he could clearly hear that I wasn’t; I knew there was no point in lying. So I told him no. He asked me a series of questions, which led to would you please come down here. Then it clicked, my sister had called the hospital on me, she turned me in. New rage bubbled up and I told him that I didn’t drive and I wasn’t going to let my sister drive me. So he sent to police for me. After watching me race around the room, claiming my crazy, and examining my bag; they escorted me out of the house while i hollered at my sister, “Are you happy I’m out of your hair, you got what you wanted!” She swore up and down she never called me in. We got outside and the police placed the handcuffs on my wrists and let me get into the back seat of the vehicle. They took me to the town's hospital where I was then placed in the holding room. Which let me tell you is enough to drive anyone crazy. It is the smallest room in the hospital, no bigger than a closet, and it’s made of cement stamped in a brick pattern and they painted it the worst color in the world, a dingy yellow. The floor was no better, it was tiled like the rest of the hospital but it had brown and cream specks through it, which I never noticed till my two day stay in that awful room. I did find out that my sister had not turned me in, but that I by accident had turned myself in, go figure anyways. I had written down when I was supposed to have what meds and they messed it all up completely. So I was taking my meds but not when I was supposed to and never at the same time. Then finally there was a bed open at one of the mental hospitals, but guess what it was 3 hours away so I got transported. I stayed there for a week, had a roommate who was there because she was suicidal brought on by an ex boyfriend. She was afraid of being alone, and amazingly enough the book I had brought with me wasn’t for me it was for her. It was called “The Art of Being Alone”. Then one of my most worst problems were solved. The racing thoughts were stopped. My mind was quiet. I finally had peace, and all because of a new medication that they put me on. Well it’s not a new medication it’s actually an old one, but new to me. So not only had I helped her with her fear of being alone a little, through a book that i was reading. But I got help with one of the worst things that was going on with me. This most recent trip to the hospital is the most rememberable, as well as the most helpful. Prior to me going to the hospital my mother had prayed, for the monsters to be quieted for me, and for me to become closer to God. Through this one experience both were achieved. I can no longer argue God’s existence he exists.

A rumble of recognition

A nostalgic nod from nature

An approaching storm reminds

that a tempest still lies within

But she's learned to dance

in her own rain

"I love you,"

Your voice echoes,

Again and again.

You always said it

The same way,

Always said it

With a light in your eyes,

And warmth in your voice,

And those words

Have only ever sounded true

Coming from you.

You were the only one

I never doubted.

I love you

More than I could ever express,

And I hope it reaches you

Beyond the veil of death.

There's so much

I never knew about you,

And I wish

I had listened more closely,

As closely as I listen

To the silence

Now that you're gone.

Why do we cover our selves up,

When it is such a tedious little hell?

Only for others expectations,

We do not wish to interrupt,

To keep from quell and quarrel,

But I say open up,

And let them see all your horror.

~From the Kingdom

I have a little black butterfly,

flapping phantom wings

against the nature of noon,

dead-sun glitter reflects

harsh like stars beneath eyelids.

I dream of another transformation,

skin learning to feel like silk,

vision creeping past the walls

built by reality and logic.

I will fly too, with charcoal grasps

into the void of breath.

I'm no butterfly.

I have no means for flight.

but I still look down

on the worm with wings,

feeling pity for the frailty

beauty requires to turn the sky

into a shadow.

I am the sun that needs no change

to wake the world.