Once upon a time I sought happiness like it was a prize to be won. I ran after it. Half crazed like, like Will Smith from the movie, searching for someone to buy his damned machines. Trying and failing. I took care to question every situation, and it was always the same one. Am I happy here? Failing to understand that although I had grasped the general context that my happiness was my responsibility, I wasn't to run after it like it was going anywhere. You see, with every "today I choose to be happy" I chanted to myself, a mantra which I picked up from if I remember correctly, the diary of Anne Frank, the happiness I so craved slipped farther and farther away from me. As if sensing my desperation and deigning to show me the appropriate amount of pepper I probably deserved for simply refusing to let things be, happiness refused to show its mischievous face. Oh sure enough I knew it was present, but I just couldn't see it. Unclear glimpses here and there, a faint echo o...