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What is happiness?

 Try. And try again. And again and again. But I'm really tired of trying.
Every morning I repeat to myself why I'm happy, why I should be happy, convincing myself I have moved so far ahead from all the bad days.
Yet, happiness needs no reasons.

// Bumped that my mom is going snooping around my stuff again.
// Even more bumped that I didn't throw that photo away.

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