I Believe That Happiness Is an Undefined Feeling That Could Never Be Achieved

Whenever I think about my life, I tend to have a feeling of inner stress. Two weeks ago, I had a midterm exam for my Computer Science course at College. For the first 30 minutes of the exam, stress didn’t know its way to my mindset. I was full of inner relaxation. My mind was really focused on my future. Although the test was important, I was thinking about other moments in my life. In fact, my feeling of relaxation resulted from my own imagination. In 30 minutes, I was able to design a whole new world full of happiness and distress.

A world of relaxation entered my brain. I tasted my own teeth and heard nothing but my mind flipping through a book of empty papers. My mind stopped. I wasn’t sleeping, but I wasn’t awake either. I wasn’t meditating, or at least I didn’t have the intention to meditate.

I looked at the screen in front of me and observed the white background. The clear explanation of nothing. My feeling had no definition.

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My mind flipped through the papers of a plain book full of nothing but page numbers. My mind started to look at each number and greet as if it is a real person that I know. Pages one, two, and three went by really fast. I experienced the funniest feeling of all time in which I laughed and played while my tears went down my cheeks. They seemed empty, but to me, they were full of happy moments. Pages four through twelve, were the ones that I mostly enjoyed. They were with no doubt, the ones that I discovered the true meaning in my life. I discovered that the sky has no end. I was able to seek every moment in my life as if it’s a final chance to reach glory. My life found tears as a way to heal. I stopped at the number 12. This was a page full of black ink. The paged seemed full of writing that was then crossed out by a permanent marker.

I heard my grandfather saying the number. The number had no importance, I had no intention to stop flipping the book. It all came unintentionally as my mind experienced a free fall from a plane. I felt no air on my external body, only my internal organs experienced the free fall.

After the 30 minutes, I realized that I’m taking an exam and that I have wasted thirty minutes of my exam time to just imagine. I didn’t really care about my imagination.

I kept looking around. I lived a different life while everyone else was focused. My eyes observed nothing even though it was opened. After the exam, I kept thinking and searching for the reason behind my imagination. For a moment, I thought about the exam in which I most likely failed. My brain found no definition but the memory of my leader. The leader of all men on Earth. The director of each movie that I attempt to play. His unforgotten quote left my wondering. His saying: “Life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced” was the magic that controlled thirty minutes of my exam time. Solving a computer science problem could have been the wire that transformed my brain. Everytime I face a challenge I remember his words trying to experience life as it is remembering that the best moment did not come yet.

I had a chance to evaluate my intentions. The empty book was my life in which emptiness was full of meaning. The twelve pages were the pages in which I saw my grandfather with me, living in the same world. The first three years, he made me experience nothing but comfort, delight, and amusement. The twelfth page was black. Its dark look reflected my image as a soldier looking at the future mirror to see the king.

When I was twelve, two weeks before christmas, his arm surrounded the back of my neck. The smell of his old skin, and the look of his old face all changed. I tried waking him up, but he wasn’t awake. The year ended and the smell disappeared.

Suddenly the memory revealed itself. The problem that my grandfather used to talk about was the same exact one that the instructor introduce before the exam. The task was to determine whether an employee is qualified for a given job according to his experience. My grandfather's talks about experience were for me unforgotten. Our talks were significantly influential on my part. He always ends it with a conclusion that I hated to listen to: “No matter how old you are, being in a place is not an experience, maturity is a choice and time is not a way to measure it”.

Immediately after I arranged my thoughts. The house of my grandfather controlled my mind. The loudness of the place where twenty people meet. All the memories were erased ina moment that I

A home gives people a place to care about the people that mean the most to them. It is a place to tell amusing tales, a good story, or make memorable memories with one another. Furthermore, home is more than a place; it is a feeling. It is a feeling of contentment and happiness that they share with the ones they love. Moreover, home is when one knows they are with people that can drive them insane in a second, and the same people can make them happy in a second as well. Home means that no matter what one is going through, no matter how challenging life gets, there will be someone looking out for them. One knows that a place is their home when they are comfortable enough to present a true description of themselves, because they know that they will receive definitive acceptance. It is a sanctuary for them where they can do anything they please and not be judged afterwards. It is where one can share the absurdity of their day without any remorse or repercussions.

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