All I Really Want...

The other day I called my good, good friend to see how his relocating was going.

He's a federal employee who's moving from his home of 10 years to another city this week and has been feeling a little out of whack.

I called expecting to hear him talk about the hassle of the move and trying to find time to get situated before he officially goes back to work.

Instead, he tells me that he contemplated suicide two days before and is afraid to seek professional help because his employer may think that he's mentally incompetent for his job.
I can't say that I was shocked.

It's not that he's a miserably, depressed person because it's just the opposite. He's always upbeat and he's the person I call when I need a pick-me-up.

I wasn't shocked because I've come to realize that most people wear a mask of happiness.

I was one of them.

I am one of them.

We talked about what he's been feeling, what he thinks he's missing in his life, and how he can possibly go about getting those things. Of course I offered my support but I know from experience that support is not what he really wants right now.

All he (and I) want is to be happy.

Something that's so simple ye hard to achieve as an adult.