For the bookworm, nothing meant peace more than hot chocolate and isolated balconies during glorious sunsets. She collected memories of days’ ends like one collected stamps- it was proof t
hat everything comes to an end and the next dawn always, always held a little more hope than before. For her, happiness was watching the sun fall asleep over a still lake, books and thoughts her only company.

For the girl who’s seen nothing but disappointment without a silver lining, the scent of an impending thunderstorm gives her the smile she hadn’t seen in months. The cloudy sky and chilly breeze gave her a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt for a while.As the first raindrops fall, so does the hairtie- the stress of the long days are set free at once. For her, happiness is the downpour running it’s course, washing away all the pain and exhaustion.

The rebel would flip her hair and start on a tirade about how she never took a few chances in her life. Given the choice, she’d go back and take those small risks because that path not taken might have led her to becoming a better version of herself in her eyes. All she’s going to remember in a few years was the spark of the moment and thinking, wow. This was exactly what I needed in my life. For her, happiness was the thrill of the chase, the second chance and the road less treaded upon.

If you ask the writer, she’s say that she’d kill for a night-out with her favourite people, the ones that see her for exactly who she was and no more.After spending years writing about the damage to run away , she thinks it’s now time she finally found the inspiration in the ones that made her truly happy and content in herself. It wasn’t about her love now, it’s all about herself.For her, happiness lay in finally choosing herself over the world, when her words didn’t play a character anymore.

My definitions of happiness are varied, yet united for the sole reason that they’re all mine.