It's About Damn Time.

I thought about it and realized that I never write when I feel like this, deliriously happy for absolutely no fathomable reason. I always write when I'm unhappy but never when I'm happy.
Obviously this happiness is slightly synthetic (ie: hormone induced), since I think it's just one of those rare times when my PMS does not manifest itself as severe clinical depression, instead it comes about as a butterflies-in-my-stomach, heart-beating-erratically, flushed-with-excitement kind of happiness. It's not a bad feeling and infact it's been a long time since I've felt this way. If memory serves correct, I think the last time may have been eleventh grade and that was actually four years ago. Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I'm forever wallowing in a pool of my own despair (I know it may seem that way to most, but I'm really not). I'm generally happy enough, I have a good life (mashallah), one that I'm very thankful for. It's just that it's been a very long time since I've felt this sort of unbridled excitement, the kind that makes you feel as if anything is possible and that all sorts of good things are waiting for you round the corner. The sort of feeling that says "your life has just begun, live it"!
So who cares if it's idiotic and erratic and bears a strong resemblance to severe bipolar, and probably won't last past 2pm tomorrow afternoon, when all the caffiene I'm hopped up on wears off and real life (ie: pharma and patho and oral) comes creeping back in. It doesn't matter. I'm happy tonight and I think I'll just leave it at that.