The ironic part is, I can only be happy when I do not hope for it. When I feel almost hopeless, expecting to meet with disappointment after disappointment, and have given myself up to fate without the slightest struggle, there happiness evolves, catching me off guard. And I know I cannot ask for anything more, because the moment I start to hope again, I will once again be disappointed. And so I accept this sudden undeserved happiness silently, savouring its unexpected sweetness, fearing it should disappear once I begin to hope again. They all say no pain no gain; yet the opposite holds more truth for me. The more painful you strive for something, the more disappointment you gain. And this is how I come to realize that all my great expectations are never great enough to compensate for all those miserable longings, and that great happiness only comes when there is no expectation at all. And so I dry my tears and tell myself not to think anymore, of all the things that I desire so much, since all these sufferings have already diminished all the value that is in them. That happiness will come to me when I least expect it. That it will come to me freely, without demanding even a single drop of tear from me.