I find myself questioning why I like the things I like. What do I get out of them? How does it make me feel and why do I like feeling that way? Do other people feel the same way as I do when they do the things that they like? Am I depriving myself from enjoying these things as much as I possibly can? Or am I feeling as much enjoyment as is possible but am simply unsatisfied? I have no scale on which to measure my potential level of enjoyment and ultimately, happiness. I'm only as happy as I decide I am. I am confined to the limits of what I believe happiness is. Does being aware of the fact I am happy take away from the feeling? The realisation. Or do you not really know you are happy until you take a step back and realise it? These questions are no doubt irrelevant to those who are happy without trying to be. Those who have settled down in a town called ignorance and vow never to migrate. Why would they ever leave?

Answers on a postcard please...