riding home on the subway tonight, the stars appeared late, as if delayed — each with that familiar look.
you know, the look, like they’d been caught in traffic, rushing to the sky, just in time for me to glance up from my book.
and in that instant, I remembered every happiness I had ever received.
like, every single one.
sometimes for me (okay, often), happiness triggers a worry that sadness might follow. it’s like my mind goes to a place of preparing for the next negative event, which makes it hard for me to fully enjoy that happy moment.
I feel really happy when I finish making a song, but then sadness creeps in as I realize how quickly the moment passes. I wish I could hold onto it longer.
or I might feel like I don’t deserve to be happy, and that happy moment turns into something bittersweet.
the doctors I see explain that if you’ve been through difficult or sad times, happiness can feel strange or uncomfortable, like a size too small. it’s possible to feel uneasy when you experience something so different from what you’re used to.
and then other times the feeling is too big. it’s overwhelming. I become unsure of how to process such a strong emotion, leading to sadness.
but tonight felt different. it was as if a blindfold had been lifted, allowing me to see the city sky in a way I never had before. I don’t know how or why, but I felt happy just being a tiny, pulsing speck beneath the beauty of the celestial dome.
I was just happy.
cookie nieves 
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