Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness to swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise, No more; where ignorance is bliss, ‘Tis folly to be wise. – Thomas Gray

Finding ways to make yourself happy is an exhausting, personality-bending process. The race for endorphins, fuelled by societal norms, political games, fiction books, romantic movies, social media, and [mythological] urban success stories, always takes you back to the starting point. Where else can it take you, if you’re the only participant?

Humans’ abilities to analyze, reason, and draw conclusions never cease to amaze me. In fact, I used to be fascinated by the self-improvement process conducted in our brains. Today, it brings frustration to me. I unveil the white flag, ready to surrender.

The misunderstood genius concept has always made me laugh because of its almost theatrical poignancy. I’m a realist; I don’t thrive on drama, and you won’t find any pink glasses in my accessory drawer. Recently, I have read a story about the world’s loneliest whale. Whales are naturally social creatures; they communicate acoustically. This one is believed to produce calls at a frequency of approximately 52 Hz, which is higher than the typical range of most whales; therefore, its songs may not be heard by others. While I shall not dive into (pun intended!) its scientific correctness, I can definitely appreciate the incredibly relatable vision of swimming around in the ocean of sorrow, lonely and mute, separated from ‘your species’ by an invisible wall.

I kept wondering whether you are able to measure the human ocean of sorrow. It is difficult because many variables must be considered. However, I stumbled upon research that shows that individuals who live in urban areas pass by an average of around 1,000 to 3,000 people per day. That’s over 1 million people in a year (1,095,000, to be precise)! One may assume that the odds of finding someone of your species who will hear you and [ideally] respond are even greater because [luckily] we have social media. Not really. Quantity does not indicate quality. 

The moral of the story is that maybe you’re not a misunderstood or unappreciated genius. Maybe you are simply communicating on another frequency.

P.S. If you want to learn more, watch the documentary ‘52: The Search for the Loneliest Whale’ produced and directed by Joshua Zeman.

The above revelation brings relief but does not resolve the problem. Like ibuprofen, it combats the symptoms of sickness but does not eliminate its cause. When you feel socially isolated, you start talking to yourself, pouring gallons of water on the Mill of Self-analysis. In an almost Shakespearean manner, I raise the following question: how do I approach the curse of wider life knowledge? Do I keep searching for ‘my species,’ or do I let it go? Here is a brief list of the pros and cons.

Pros – keep searching:

–         Sooner or later, I may achieve my goal and consequently become happier

–         I definitely won’t be bored during the process

Cons:

–         I may lose everything [once again]

–         I am not sure I want to

The dialogue goes on for a while, becoming more intense and harsher, until eventually, tears of joy from the newly found appropriate interlocutor turn into tears of relief for all the wrong reasons. Not because I am happy but because I finally let it go. These days, I wish to be the person Publilius Syrus wrote the words ‘in knowing nothing, life is most delightful’ about. For example, you can’t be sad about not finding the magic goldfish if you’re unaware that it exists in the first place. On the contrary, I know the goldfish is there, alongside the big city buzz mashed up with expressive jazz jams, intellectually stimulating conversations, healthy, ambitious rivalry, and warm, magical starry nights that Van Gogh captured in his paintings. My university colleagues have nicknamed me the ‘big city girl,’ and I (unfortunately?) shall forever remain her. Big city girls do not feel pressure to become outstanding. They need it like air to breathe.

This big city girl’s tale is rather disheartening. She will not magically change, accept her fate, and become excited about small, simple things that usually make ordinary people cheerful and happy. For her, they are either irrelevant or unworthy. I acknowledge the risk of being perceived as arrogant or ignorant when I say this: how can she possibly waste her significantly above-average potential and highly limited time on average stuff? With that being said, where does she take the energy, dedication, and motivation from with zero external supply and almost empty internal reserves?

I despise people who say that ‘everything happens for a reason’ or ‘see the positives in everything.’ Pass me the glasses. Enlighten me, please. What was the reason for my family losing everything we worked so hard on? Thank you for your input. Now, please, leave.

This was written by our contributing writer, Daria Bahlai.