be happy
For the past 9 years of my life, I have lived in a small, rural town of about 2,000 people. Beside a few days when I first arrived and a few days in-between then and now, this has been the most boring place I have ever lived. A long time ago, I would have said I was unhappy here for the reason that this town sucks. Or the fact that there is nothing to do. Or the fact that it rains or is windy at least 400 days out of the year. But now, I realize that it would be impossible for me to blame my unhappiness on a town, or the limited resource of entertainment, or even the weather. I have found out that none of these factors causes my unhappiness, nor could they ever do so. In fact, the only reason I am unhappy is because I chose to be so, not by any other outside influences. In order to be truly happy, I have to understand what being happy really entails. Each morning at three a.m. sharp, John slides out of his toasty warm bed and plants his feet on the frozen lake of his tiled floor. Clumsily and with one eye half open, he pulls on a dirty pair of coveralls that reek of something in-between New York City sewers and New York City bums, stained with everything from coffee grinds to organisms Ebola would throw up over. After grabbing
Jack Sternicus (names have been changed to protect the innocent) gets all the fly honeys, as it is called where he is from in the south central part of San Francisco. Foxy ladies literally swarm around this hot, sexy stud whenever he struts down the hall of his school. He can barely get any learning done in a day with all the fine girls constantly pleading with him for a little kiss, maybe marriage. Now one would think this great looking, popular guy would be happy as a clam. A clam embedded in the necklace of a fine, sexy mermaid, which happens to settle directly underneath her chin so that he can admire her gorgeous looks. But, as fate has it, he is even happier than that clam could ever be. But let's just say he is unhappy for the sake of this story. Jack is unhappy because he hasn't been able to truly find happiness within himself. Sure, he may seem happy to the hundreds of guys without girlfriends anymore waiting to ambush him and beat his face into the ugly records, but ! Bill Gates spends all of his life earning billions, possibly trillions, in the time it takes most people to earn a job at McDonalds. But late at night, when he is all alone coddling his billions in his own personal money banks like Scrooge McDuck, he finds that all those little pieces of metal and slips of paper really give him no happiness at all. Bill Gates feels emptiness inside of him. Bewildered by this hole in his heart, he calls up his personal walking models with built in computers and, once bypassing all the secrets to the universe and other boring stuff he found years ago, Bill finds out that the real secret to truly being happy lies within himself. He must decide to be happy, he can't achieve it by being able to buy Mars three times over and sell it in little blue boxes, which will end up making him richer than God. burnt toast and his thermos of reheated week o
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Approximate Word count = 1255
Approximate Pages = 5 (250 words per page double spaced)
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