I had travelled everywhere. Tokyo, Hawaii, London, Brazil. Everywhere, searching for it. Searching for the part of me I had been missing for a very long time. In Venice, I searched for it in the beauty of the canals. In Berlin, I scoured the remnants of the Wall, disheartened when I couldn't find it. In Athens, I stared at the incredible view from the top of the Acropolis, yet my happiness still didn't come back for me.
Eventually, I gave up. After years of searching, I came home. I saw my family for the first time in eight years, yet I did not feel anything. They hugged me and cried for me, but still my happiness had not come back for me.
One day, I met an amazing person who was supposed to have brought me happiness back to me. But they didn't. I married them though, as I knew I couldn't regret anything more than letting my happiness run away from me.
We had two children, neither of which could lure my happiness back to me. I was constantly surrounded by my family and friends, yet I had never felt more alone.
Finally the day came. The overall pain of loneliness consumed me and I took one too many sleeping tablets. Death was welcoming. It brought me in with open arms, guiding me to the dark abyss of the afterlife. As I watched my family mourn for me, I felt a strange feeling. My happiness had finally come back for me.


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