You think it lives inside of you? You’re wrong.
Or… maybe you’re right but not completely.
There’s all these quotes people keep posting about happiness, “Be your own happiness.” “Find it within.” “You don’t need anyone to make you happy.”
Pretty words. Looks good on a Pinterest board. Something you write under a soft-sunset Instagram picture with your matcha latte. But… real life? Hmm.
I keep wondering, are we really meant to live alone? To be this complete, self-sufficient little island who doesn’t need anyone? It sounds strong. It sounds independent. But it also sounds lonely.
I guess, sure, not everyone will be destined to find someone who brings them happiness. Some people live whole, content lives alone. But me? I’ve always felt like love, the real kind, is… dying to yourself a little. Not in a sad way. In the way you live for the other person. And if both people are doing that for each other, if both people are showing up with that kind of selflessness, wouldn’t happiness just… happen? Like, wouldn’t it be inevitable?
But we’re human. And humans… we’re selfish by nature.
Thing is, does being “Selfish by nature” translate to survival instinct? Is it the part of us that doesn’t want to be inconvenienced? Is it the way we protect what’s ours?
I think of my sister when we were younger. She had this… thing. She just wouldn’t do something for anyone if it cost her even a little. Not her time. Not her space. Not even her attention. I mean, in some ways, that’s self-love, right? Boundaries. But there’s a line between self-love and selfishness.
Like… I remember this one time I wanted to borrow one of her wigs, and mind you, she had five. Five beautiful wigs sitting there. But she’d always say, “That’s the one I’m wearing today, pick another.” No discussion. No compromise. And it wasn’t just wigs, it was clothes, it was rides, it was favors.
My mum eventually had to train her out of that habit. It took corrections, a lot of them. Teaching her that sometimes, love means giving up a little comfort. Now she still practices self-love, but that sharp edge of “no” for the sake of “no” is gone.
And I think about that when people talk about “being your own happiness.” Because, yes, you should be happy on your own. You should love yourself. But if your happiness never bends to let someone else in, is it even happiness? Or is it just self-preservation in a prettier outfit?
I get the whole concept though. I’ve lived it.
I was in a toxic relationship once. And when I say toxic, I don’t mean shouting matches or big dramatic betrayals, I mean the slow, invisible kind. The one where you’re smiling and laughing and telling everyone how amazing they are, but deep down… you’re neglecting yourself.
And at first? It was good. Like, euphoric good. We had fun. We were constantly together. The inside jokes, the playlists we made for each other, the way I’d get excited just knowing I was going to see him… it was all so light and warm and addictive. But under that, I was insecure. Hurting. I started losing little pieces of myself, my time, my hobbies, my peace. And I thought I was happy because he was there. But the truth is, I wasn’t whole.
So maybe happiness isn’t just “inside of you” and it’s not entirely “in someone else” either. Maybe it’s somewhere in the middle, a kind of neutral ground. That sweet spot where you’re not drained and hollow, but you’re also not closed off to the joy that can come from someone else’s love.
And it’s tricky because the world tells us extremes. Either you’re the strong, independent person who needs no one… or you’re the hopeless romantic whose entire being revolves around another human. But most of us? We’re somewhere in between, just trying to figure out how to share our happiness without losing it.
I don’t think there’s a perfect answer. Actually, I’m sure there isn’t.
Some days, I think happiness is me alone in my space, candles lit, music low, no one asking anything from me. Other days, it’s someone’s hand on mine, both of us laughing about something stupid, knowing we’re each other’s safe place.
But one thing I know, it feels lighter when it’s shared. Not carried by just you. Not dependent on just them. Just… shared.
And maybe that’s where happiness actually lies. Somewhere in the give and take. Somewhere between “I am enough for me, but I am glad you’re here too.”
Thank you for reading.