Content is not Consistent

being happy is something I’ve always wanted

A constant state of it..

A satisfying feeling of being content and not as fragile as the next person to your right or your left (forever I want that feeling)

And even when the feelings are pushed to the shore the sand will bury it once more

like a bouquet of flowers the petals begin to dwindle

The essence of life itself is not constant and will never reach consistency

So, do not think that it is the "key"

This bouquet is made up of my favorite flowers though….

Their colors distinct from one another

The feelings these colors give me are inexplicable but..

If my mom was alive I know she would be able to describe this feeling they give me

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