When you're happy and you know it.

I had BIG plans for the summer-- going someplace great for the holidays, bake brownies, get a tan, lose weight, go running every day(haha), and it goes on. What I actually ended up doing was not go anywhere, wake up late, sit around, meet a few friends most days, home, a movie, then sleep.

I still managed to have a good time, but in the back of my mind, I was frustrated at not being able to do all that I wanted to. It was pretty much your regular whining: "But, but..EVERYONE went somewhere!" I'd tell my brain to shut up, but that tiny little voice inside me has a pretty solid set of lungs on it.

The summer got over and the slight nip in the air brought with it the impending doom of college reopening. The prospect of a new academic year is exhilarating, but the stringent hours, assignments, getting stuck into a routine...not so much. Sure, you get to meet friends, but I'd rather meet them at a healthier time than 8:30am, thankyouverymuch.

Then it was back to the usual. I was dreading it every day. You never quite get used to a whole different set of teachers and subjects for sometime.

But being back to the place where I'd spent so much time in the past two years made me realize that I'd missed it, despite everything. Familiar corridors, friendly faces, the collective groan when a professor decides they won't leave until they absolutely have to. I felt alive, like I'd been breathing the same air for a long time and I was suddenly free to be the person I was; the me I loved, hated, admired, laughed at--it was the best feeling in the world.

That made me realize that even though I wouldn't want to miss out on the chance of going somewhere next summer, and that I would hate being in college most days, I was mistaking being adventurous and wishful with being happy.

Once again today, I woke up at 7am feeling cranky, went to college, parked in the midst of a thousand other bikes, climbed up the familiar staircases I had innumerable times before, complained about everything under the sun, laughed at stupid jokes, ate a Wada Pav and drank tea for lunch, sat in a stuffy classroom, braved lectures, and came back to the comforting smell of home only to laze around. It was like any other day.

I always thought if I got to do something worth writing about everyday, that would mean I was happy. But happiness is seeing the same people everyday and feeling glad you did. Seeing someone's expression mirror how bored you feel. That face in the crowd that you know will lift your mood in an instant.

Happiness is not getting to go to a faraway land and escaping. It's not about trying so hard to feel good, you don't know who you are anymore.

Happiness is about tying your hair in a messy bun and looking around once in a while. It's not in our dreams and wishes, but in the known, the comfortable, the familiar.