Happiness is oblivion. This state of being is oblivion. There is no notice of time here. There is no worry. Oblivious to everything but the moment and the vein of this happiness. It is not pensive, but entirely far from it, entirely disparate. It is without reflection, for as soon as thought, happiness is waned. Happiness is completely fluid, from the cuff expression, flux and new. It is easy to become and easier to detach. It is a sense of being, created by emotional chemicals, like any other feeling. It is not demanding, besides demanding the passing time, but is dependent on a variable of sources. Still, what it is, I don't know. If I were happy, at any time, I would ask, What is this? and I would only answer, It is this, it is now. My cheeks contract, and my body spasms with uncontrollable tremors. It feels good. I can't taste it or touch it. It sometimes sounds like a duck or goose quacking, or a squealing, and looks as if one is squinting with raised cheeks in half convulsions. It is simple. So simple, it is oblivious.

(( Excuse me while I die. Deadpool mun is watching this episode RIGHT NOW… He’s got no clue))