I can’t help but wonder. Have I really been happy? I’ve always thought that helping others achieve their own happiness will help me find mine. I’ve always been that kind of person who seems to enjoy helping out whoever’s in need, perhaps even to the point of giving up my own. However, I’m pretty aware that I haven’t found mine. Each time I would help out someone, maybe a friend of mine or maybe a stranger, I can’t help but feel envious of them afterwards. I mean, how do they know what makes them really happy? How come they’re so sure that they are indeed happy and that I’ve helped them find theirs? I know it seems greedy of me to ask but I really wish that each time I help someone out, I also experience at least a nib of the happiness they claim to have. Each laugh I try to purge out is always an attempt, and often in vain, to have a share of that bliss. Perhaps I simply cannot afford to be happy, or at least find its full realization in my life because it’ll always be at the expense of others. Nevertheless, I still believe in sharing what I have in pursuing the greater good even if I often lose the fruits I reap.