Happily Depressed

To my conclusion, it seems to me that I am struggling with depression. Or more like, living with depression since I don't really feel like I'm struggling with it.
I like it's company.
Depression keeps me occupied for a thought or two.




But sometimes I wonder, why do I feel this way?
Why do I constantly find myself drowning my joy into a painful thought of life, death, and all the other things in between?

I am not suffering from any chronic disease, nor any economical crisis. To be honest, the house I rest my head during the night is pretty nice. And the material pleasure that surrounds me during the day is, pleasurable.
 
Safe to say that my life looks perfect.








Perfection bores me.









I want my life to be an adventure, and as cliche as that sounds well it is the truth.
I long for the taste of freedom. But I'm finding myself more and more like a house pet each passing sunrise.

I'm afraid some day I'll wake up, not having the urge to seek freedom and finally surrendering to whatever it is that's always been tying me down.

Or maybe the blame for these sensitive moments are in the absence of a lover? (Here we go again, blaming love and all)

Well, there has been some days where I find myself wishing there was someone who I can call in the middle of the day just to tell them how beautiful the sunlight is and how I can't wait for the moon to come in during the night to match the sun's beauty.

But such person could only exist in my most childish thoughts. Because grown ups don't think about love, all they think about is 'how much money will I be taking home to my wife and kids tomorrow?' Well maybe that is some sort of love, but too often have these adults get trapped in such quest for material things that they tend to forget that true love lies from within.






Love.
What a depressing emotion that is