I would have been so happy.
This is the tale of looking at life through a rose-tinted window. Like the Kelly Rowland song.
Last weekend I had a simple conversation,but it struck me in the weirdest way possible. It’s struck some cord in me that I thought I had killed a long time ago.
I realised how I would have been so happy. That sort of happiness that kills you. The kind of happiness that they don’t allow to survive in the movies. The kind of happiness that can cause someone to burst like a bubble floating in the sky.
Which is why life has to happen. Why life has to take course,so that we can all have a storyline. So that the plot can have a twist.
What am I even talking about, where am I going with this?
I would have been so happy to wake up next to you. I would have been elated to make your meals, do your laundry,listen to you talking about how you plan to conquer the world.
I would have been so happy in that office, with that job. Dealing with that team everyday. Then I would be able to save and have potloads of money in my account.
I would have been so happy in that country. Travelling far and wide. A wonderful French man named Pierre, a dark Senegalaise called Mamadou,in a fancy dimly lit restaurant. I’d laugh at his jokes and he would remark on my elegance.
I would have been so happy. To be friends with her. We would share inside jokes that noone else would understand. We would have our own vocabulary. I would be able to get into her closet and “borrow” that sweater for good. And she wouldn’t mind. Because she would borrow my Louboutins for good too.
But you would have been so bored. Never any challenge, never any drama. Quite routine in fact. Someone to worship you, to always see you as a god. You would want more, you would wish for more. Always,always.
I don’t know if I would have been so happy if all my dreams had come true. How would I have known that I was happy if I had not known sadness?
I would have been so happy…but you would have been so bored. Yes, you.