Recent events have lifted my mood over the past few days, bringing forth something entirely unfamiliar; something close to genuine happiness. Though, living in an obscenely over-cluttered house has still managed to taint everything with a sense of being stuck regardless of how hard I try to make progress. I still feel as though the process has been too slow. Getting to the point of feeling comfortable in a social setting after a lifetime of social anxiety or getting a much better job are things I feel I should've been able to do years ago. Nonetheless, I should feel happy about accomplishing them anyway, shouldn't I?
Being surrounded by piles of old newspapers and mail while being able to hear mice gnawing away at the walls always has a way of overshadowing anything positive that might happen. When facing a difficult situation such as living in an unfavorable environment, can one ever truly know what it feels like to be content?
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