When I was young, being happy had everything to do with I had. I had to have that certain Barbie doll or that pair of jeans. I had to be as thin as those girls and be popular with those boys. I had to be in a relationship with that guy or be on good terms with that girl. Happiness was about as materialistic as it could ever get. Now that I've passed those years of my life, I have come to an age where my happiness still means what I want, even if it isn't materialistic. For the past 10 months, my life has been about one person. It's scary for me to think that after my previous relationship, I could be here again so soon and so quickly. In many ways, I have surpassed every benchmark in my life without blinking and realizing where all the time has gone. I can't remember any huge arguments. I can't remember feeling like we were never able to compromise. We always have this ability to work things out and talk things through. Yet, I find myself still wanting something... Happiness.

Don't get me wrong. I am happy. I am so well beyond grateful that he is in my life, but I wonder what these months have meant to me when I constantly find myself going back and remembering and lingering on memories that shouldn't make me think this hard. I should just be happy. It should be enough to just be happy. I can't think of many things wrong with him. In fact, many times I think his only fault is not having the same wealth of experience with women like I do with men. We once struggled with the idea of me having experienced so much and him wanting to be with someone who could experience everything for the first time with him. It's everything down to first kiss. I wish I could have given him that, all of my experiences.

Now, I'm sitting here in my apartment struggling with the idea of happiness when he's sitting in his apartment with friends being happy together. If I'm happy now, what is this feeling that I'm not doing inside of me?