When my head isn't throbbing and causing untold misery, I try to be happy and enjoy life. I'm not always successful. My feelings are quite contradictory. For no apparent reason.
Maybe I was born with a sad soul, and a happy personality did a walk-in at some point. But there was some screw-up, and the sad soul never left like it was supposed to. Or maybe in a parallel universe, it all worked out fine. That's what I tell myself on particularly horrid days. That somewhere in an alternate universe, I'm one happy motherfucker. :)
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