I need to write. Writing will make me happy. Writing on a blog will get me comments. Comments will make me happy. Replying to comments ensures people return to my blog. That will make me happy. Having 100 followers of my blog will make me happy. I have 96 followers. I've had 96 followers for several months now. New people are not reading my blog. That makes me unhappy.
The post that I share on Indiblogger gets promoted by many people. That makes me happy. I removed my last post after sharing it. Many people promoted the post that did not exist. That makes me very unhappy. I should stop blogging. Maybe that will make me happy.
I have other followers. Every other day I get a new follower on Twitter. It doesn't make me happy. I am being followed by a growing number of people I've never heard of. Why should that make me happy? Why do they add me when they don't even know me? Does it make them happy? Why would they be happy following me if they don't even know me? I don't tweet.
Maybe tweeting will make me happy. But isn't it like blogging? Isn't it just blogging without the effort or skill? Why would that make me happy? I don't like twitter.
I don't think any number of comments or followers will make me happy. I need to write for myself. Writing for myself will make me happy. I need to do everything for myself. Only then will I be happy. Will doing everything for myself make me selfish? Can a selfish person ever be happy? Is there anyone who is not selfish? Is there anyone who is happy?
I think listening to music makes me happy. I wish I could make my own music. That would make me happy. But I don't have any musical talent. That makes me very unhappy. So many musicians don't have any talent. But they make music and that makes me unhappy. I hate music because it makes me unhappy.
I like football. Watching football makes me happy. My team has not won anything for a long time now. That makes me very unhappy. I hate football because it makes me unhappy.
I like art. Discovering art makes me happy. I don't understand modern art. No one understands modern art. New artists only create modern art. That makes me very unhappy. I hate art.
I like thinking. Thinking makes me happy. Thinking makes me find faults. Finding faults drives away the happiness. Thinking leads only to conclusions. Conclusions don't bring happiness. I hate thinking.