Sometimes I try to write of happy moments,
Of happy times,
Yet I always return to this state.  
To this state, of dull aching sorrow,
To this realm, plaguing my mind,
And I wind up forgetting the reason that I am here.

I sit in the drivers side, driving this car.                   And you sit in the passengers side holding my heart,
Oh wait, I mean holding my hand.
The sun is shining through the window and the air is flying through our hair, and smiles, and laughter, and singing, and bickering.
The breeze carries the glances I send your way, and those you send mine.
The sun has landed upon my lap and I jubilantly accept it for its attendance as well as your hand that is now on my thigh.
And I realize, I am ever so grateful for your existence.
In this breath, I am happy.

It is a unique kind of independence when the only love and acceptance you seek is from yourself.