Have you ever been in such a state where you are so happy that nothing seems to be able to even leave a slight indent in your mood?
The world seems so much brighter than you remember it being and you see so much new beauty that you don’t remember being there before. Your chest feels lighter and nothing is able to wipe a smile from your face. You genuinely feel like you’re flying and seeing the world from a new angle, above.
That’s how I feel right now. And I’m terrified.
I’m terrified because all of a sudden, the ground seems a foreign place to me. I don’t remember what it felt like to be down, I just know it was a dark place. It has turned into another unknown to be afraid of, like a fear of what may lurk in the dark or long grass.
The thing about being sad is, it can become comfortable. Our eyes can adjust to the dark and we get used to feeling dirt under our fingernails and in between our toes. Sitting on the ground in sadness is easy because there’s nowhere lower for you to go. You can create a cave and get used to wallowing in your own sorrows.
But when you’re happy, there is so much space between the ground and your spot high in the sky with every possibility that you could fall at any moment. Even if you build a nest, it could easily teeter and topple to the ground, shattering into a cloud of twigs. The point is, I’m not afraid of flying. I’m not afraid of this happiness. I’m afraid of falling. I’m afraid of breaking bones and being unable to get back up. I’m afraid of getting hurt again when I’ve only just now forgotten and gotten rid of the burden of what hurt feels like. I have just now been able to see what colour really looks like again, and I’m afraid of the unknown time at which those colours may turn back to greys.
Most of all though, I’m afraid that my collapse will happen gradually. That I will slowly become exhausted from flying for so long that my wings will forget how to carry me, and I will slowly sink to the ground. I am afraid of landing and suddenly realising where I am but not knowing how I got there. It is far easier to be gracefully lifted into the air with newly sprouted wings, than it is to fall to the ground with broken ones.
And that’s why being happy scares me.