Money = Happiness

A lot of people say that money can’t buy you happiness. Isn’t that heart warming? Sure. Personally, I believe that money could invoke a lot of happiness. This isn’t a black and white concept, however, I couldn’t be happy in my mansion if I didn’t have a single soul to share my thoughts with. Then again I could pass the time with films in my cinema, trips on my yacht, walks through my land, gaming in my arcade room… unlimited money; the possibilities would be endless. Hmm…doing all these wonderful things alone though… The solitude would be suffocating. These are conflicting thoughts, I must acknowledge that. My overall point is that money can make a person so happy, providing you have someone that enjoys your company and vice versa. 

Unfortunately for the majority; our lives are limitied by our finances. Looking at my aacount I know that all that money already has a home and it’s not with me or to be spent on anything fun. How mundane. I completely hate the way life is sometimes. You go to work everyday just to keep a roof over your head. Every once in a while you might get a budget holiday for a week, for me those budget holidays are in England. Then you go back to work and all your pals ask about your holiday and about the weather, you feign happiness at talking about it, knowing that your freedom is gone and you’re back at work with no money and facing a repeat of the previous months. Life is on a dull loop. Then perhaps once you’re home that evening you have yourself a little cry at the nothingness that your life is sometimes. Or maybe you’re a dreamer, you trade that cry for some hopeful thoughts that you know deep down will be nothing more than that.

I’m not even sure if I have any dreams right now. I’m fading into the background. I’m the dull stranger that passes you by.

Can I change that? Potentially, yes. How though? I don’t even know what I want, I just know that there is so much missing. It’s difficult when you don’t know what it is that’s missing. You can’t seek out what you want.

I still have my hopes to drive, to travel, to be generally happy. I hope for a big home with a flashy car on my driveway. I hope for awesome friends who think I’m equally as awesome. I hope that these bunch of friends come over sometimes for fancy meals that I have cooked, with me and my perfect husband. I hope they say ‘You’ve out done yourself, this meal is exquisite’. I will of course reply modestly whilst beaming about how happy my life is. We’ll be drinking champagne, one of my guests will pop the cork and we’ll all laugh at where it lands. After another lovely evening laughing all night, I will retire to my office to write. Once I’m happy with my work, I will go to my ridiculously large bedroom, slip off my black, designer dress and sleep so peacfully in my king-sized bed.

I don’t mean to be a miserable bastard…actually, no, yes I do. Right now I’m being miserable. Which is okay because tomorrow I might be all optimistic again. Hopelessness leads to unhappiness. Embrace your dreams. The obsurd dreams, the small dreams, the secret dreams. 

Life is often too dull to give up on the fantasies, they keep me sane.

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