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People think that I'm rich and spoiled, but they'd be surprised if they switched places with me. Very very surprised. I guess no grass is truly green and we are all doomed to graze the dying, sandy coloured grass of disappointment for our entire lives, dreaming of green grass that doesn't exist. I don't know if that's just a random melancholy thought or something I truly believe in. I don't want to believe it. I'd like to believe that we all deserve contentment, but I'm not completely certain and this worries me. I will only know on my death bed whether or not I worked away my entire life for a happy existence that would never be possible. Maybe I will be content in my last year, month, hour, minute of life and I wonder: will it be worth it? I hope that these things aren't true and that happiness does exist in some permanent form. I want to believe that. After all, why would the phrase "happily ever after" be used so countlessly if it hadn't happened at least once?
