I can tell that happiness never really liked me nor favoured me

I guess happiness has its people

But I cannot tell who they are

because I do not know how to differentiate myself from them

It is not because I always saw myself with the eyes of dirt

Happiness has got nothing to do with dirt

Because even people who look at themselves with eyes of dirt

Are as happier as ever

I mean, like, I can be as clean and bright as a diamond ring

But still, happiness would never even stand 5 metres near me

See, what I mean when I say happiness never really liked me

But what if happiness is afraid of me?

Yet I here think that it doesn’t like a bit of me

I mean, it’s possible, right?

Or am I just thinking out loud?

See, I seem to measure myself with all kinds of things that seem more suitable.

Then reached some mis-conclusion about myself.

I guess it’s safer to say I never got time to learn what happiness is.