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I've always found it a bit crazy how us the sapiens need to own things so badly. We have <b>justifications</b> for wanting things to the point where we have managed to per-mutate the <b>want</b> into a <b>distorted need</b>. These made up <b>"needs"</b> may be common place, they may even be social norms, but I struggle to accept them and constantly find myself questioning them.<br><br>
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<h3>Displacing Happiness</h3><br>
You've had these conversations too, I'm sure of it. A friend, a relative tells you how much the need something and when they acquire this something they will <b>"finally be happy"</b>. You listen, after all you are a good friend, a good brother, a good listener and you try to really understand why they need it so badly. <br><br>

I'm of course not talking about necessities, as the noun implies those are really needed. I'm talking about all those things that don't do anything for your <b>tombstone or epitaph</b>. Yes, I admit I'm sounding a bit cryptic here, but the truth is that most of these things we desire with unwarranted hunger are as evanescent as cigarette smoke. 

I wont lie either, I've participated myself. I once told my older brother how I would be truly happy the day I owned a home. Here I am some years later writing this short post looking outside of one its windows thinking about how I don't feel that much different from that day.

Maybe the whole point behind those thoughts is to add ourselves a carrot to the end of a stick. An act we do to justify, to fuel getting up and pushing forth when things don't seem to work out the way we want. It could also be a depressing way we have been programmed to be good consumers, good pawns in a chess game most of us are unaware of. 

<h3>That thought does worry me</h3>
It might be one of the most disturbing things I think about often. I want to believe that everything I ever wanted, that everything that I am has always been my choice. The thought of feeding "the machine" as some people refer to it tends to diminish my sense of purpose to levels that invite bitter anguish. This might be the reason why I fight my thoughts often, every single time I utter or think the words <b>"I need this"</b>.

Here is the thing, at least in my opinion these truths should be apparent. We need very little, we don't need cell phones, we don't need fancy cars or expensive watches. Yes they are nice, yes I enjoy them too, but how powerful would it be to see the image clearly, to know none of these things matter in the end of any story.

I can't think of a man who is remembered by his <b>Rolex</b>, yet there are those who will sell their own liver to own one. I wish I was exaggerating but I'm not. I once met a man who told me he rather be dead than be poor, he has no clue he is the poorest man I have encountered in my life to date. 

You might be reading my words, attempting to enter my mind and wondering if I'm hugging a tree standing inches away from hippie insanity. But I think if you remove the googles society provides, you might find truth in my words.

<h3>I don't know what it means to happy</h3>
I don't think anybody does, at least not in a way it can be conveyed with words or songs. But maybe that's the point, maybe that is the purpose, the search, the exploration and the painful dance between confusion and clarification. What I do know is that I've never bought something that has made me happy, not permanently, not even for an extended time to be honest. 

The only thing I know, the only conclusion I dare to make is that my most precious possessions are memories, and the ones that I value the most, the ones that made me be me, have very little to do with money....
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