“I am happy.” I used to say that to myself, knowing that it was a lie. Knowing that I was sitting in my own misery, the air thick with hatred. Sitting there, rotting in my own anger, in my own sadness. “I am happy.” The first time I said this phrase, it went into one ear and out the other in a second. Even subconsciously, I couldn’t entertain the thought. Not only did it sound absolutely ridiculous, but it seemed simply unfeasible. How could I possibly be happy? Everybody knows that I’m miserable.
The second time I said the phrase to myself, it didn’t just pass through my mind. Instead, it peaked around the walls of my brain, familiarizing itself with the scent of my thoughts for just a moment before skipping away. I allowed myself for a moment, just briefly, to consider what it would be like if I were happy. A flash of a white house with black shutters crossed my mind before zipping out again. I shook. What a ridiculous thought.
Months passed before I even tried again. I figured, “Surely one day I will wake up and be happy.” Unfortunately, it took a bit more than that. So, on a day when I was feeling particularly down, I said my affirmation. “I am happy.” This time, instead of popping in, I allowed the thought to consume me for a moment. I felt my heart come alive for a second, in a way I forgot it was allowed to do. I felt confident, I felt powerful, I felt love. Soon enough, the image drifted from my mind, grounding me in the real world once again. Still trapped in a house that I hate, surrounded by people I hate, in a body I haven’t been able to love just yet. But for a moment, I felt what it must be like to be truly happy.
After this, I continued to tell myself that I was happy multiple times a day. It was a little bit of a dopamine rush at a certain point. Although it still felt like a drag of nicotine and less like a true statement, I liked to ponder the idea. Pastels, flowers, farmers’ markets. Romance, beaches, and new flavors of ice cream. The simple images that it provoked led me to ask myself some fundamental questions. What does happiness look like for me? What do I need to do to get there? How can I ever reach this goal?
“I am happy.” It was about a year after I had first said this phrase to myself that I realized it had worked. Sure, I stayed in therapy and I worked hard in other aspects of my life, but implementing positivity into my sea of negative thoughts was shockingly beneficial. I knew happiness had begun to consume me when going to sleep felt like the most dreaded part of my day. I wanted to stay awake, to continue doing the things I love. I yearned to work on my hobbies, to talk to my friends, to bake for my family. I knew I was happy when waking up in the morning made me feel like I was a teenager, getting ready to see my crush at school.
Though life may seem covered in gray smoke, soaked with envy and hatred and pity. Though at times it’s insufferable, scary, and unpredictable. There is nothing wrong with allowing yourself to be happy. There is nothing wrong with needing help, with needing space, with needing friends. Your joy is personal; it’s intertwined with the deepest parts of your being. I urge you to try to find it.
About the Creator
Brittany đź©·
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I'm Brittany, and I'm so glad you're here. I'm 24 years old, and I hold a bachelor's degree in Creative Writing and English. Thank you for reading, and feel free to subscribe so you don't miss any stories! (it's freee)!
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khan5 days ago in Motivation
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