I strolled slowly around the park, as I did each afternoon when I was freed from the prison I call school. Nothing was more relieving than being set free, but I knew that I would have to eventually be dragged back to the dullness of it all, even though my blanket cried every morning that I shouldn't leave. School never offered me anything of interest, even though I was the teacher's pet in almost every class, got perfect grades, and had no social life whatsoever. Everyone considered me a goody-two-shoes because they knew I was too afraid to break the rules. Eventually, I just turned into another face in the crowd, another person to brush past in the hall.

I loved becoming invisible. That's when I could become part of the background and observe everything around me. I would sit on the mountain of dirt that everyone considered disgusting, and just watch, because if I dared making my way down to the social groups I'd put myself in danger of dealing with someone who'd ask me dumb questions to fill the silence I had hovering around me. Although I had been trapped in this dread filled city for only one year, I never stopped missing my friends and family that had been left behind. Even in my best efforts, I had never found my place in any of the popular groups or the ones that made up the outskirts, for I was a danger to everyone if I let my thoughts do the talking. At the worst possible times my head would conveniently drop its filter to my mouth and let anything and everything come out. If you hurt one person by a simple accident, everyone seemed to figure out how to make you feel the burn of your own words. I never meant anything I said, and even though I apologized, the rumors still continued to live on. Through time I learned that if the people I had to be in class with all day stayed away, they'd be safer. I had been transformed into a rusty toy with just a few words, and replaced by prettier, better looking toys that ruled my school life like dictators. They'd always have the upper hand, no matter how much I wanted it to, nothing could affect that. I laughed at myself, knowing that some things would never change.

My feet continued to trudge their way across the freshly repaved cement that twisted and turned from the dusty beginning of our city's park all the way to the end. There it met the towering pine and oak trees, which were the guardians to the outside world. They seemed to know that if I set my foot outside their protection, they couldn't protect me from the pain that continually sought to tear me apart. My attention made its way to a certain spot, and I gradually turned my head, slowly enough to smell the freshly cut blades of grass that brought me back to my old home back in Hanford. The rock which I called a home away from home wasn't too fancy, but the view it offered was more than the appreciation I gave on a daily business. From it, you could see the tallest of buildings, and if you could keep balance on your tiptoes, you could witness the true beauty of the sun as it slipped over the mountains, only to rise again the next morning. Down below, you could see the grass which covered the vastness of the park, and although the drought seemed to affect every other plant, the deep green stalks stood persistent and aimed to pass the test of time. As my eyes continue to idolize my sanctuary of peace, my mind realized how precious my place was. Not only did it protect me from people, but it gave me a different sense of safe, so when I shut my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, I wouldn't have to worry about anything except the thought of my imagination having a limit.

I scaled the rock to the very top, and my hand slipped across the surface, cool to the lightest of touches. As soon as I hiked my way up to the peak, I laid down on the uneven ground, and shoved my backpack underneath my head for a softer surface than the rock offered. My eyes fluttered closed, and I breathed in the unfiltered air that lingered here amongst the trees. With my lungs full of the soothing air, I willed my thoughts to die down and listened. Down by the playground I heard one of the fourth grade cliques daring each other to climb the jungle gym, even though none of them had the guts to; near the fountain, I heard a bird's wings splashing in the crystal clear water, and above me, deeper down in the trees, I could hear the faint squeak of a squirrel as it scampering through the leaves, probably with a nut clutched close to its chest. A sigh escaped me because it seemed like everyone here was happy, everyone but me. Nothing in my life ever seemed to fit together. A simple explanation of it was that it was a failed attempt and the only way to extract myself from it was to think. In that moment, as my eyes were sealed from the sinking sun and my breath even and rhythmic, the doors to my thoughts were cracked open slowly, in hopes of easing my way into a peaceful stream. But, like usual, they burst open like a tsunami with the words I wish I had the courage to speak.

Happiness. It's just a word, among the millions of others that float around with a purpose. But there's something different about a word as powerful as this one. For it isn't just a pursuit to achieve it, or an emotion where you feel it taking over your body, but merely a moment in time, captured in a glass bottle. Just to glimpse it, hold it, savor it, makes your whole existence stop and just observe the pureness of it. Some see it in someone they love, others, in the friends that provide them a way to escape from the life back home. It means more than just a state of being, it means so much more. Every day people smile, laugh, even cry from happiness. It seems natural, almost a first response, to believe in the happiness that fuels us to do great things. Because of it, we are inspired, to become happy, not only for ourselves, but for the benefit of others. I guess the world meant for people to be happy before experiencing anything else, to see a memory unexpectedly that was tucked away in the dusty corner of your head, antique and precious, for a reason. Some call this moment destiny, others call it fate. But the real debate is why does it matter? Can you trust an instinct, something so basic it doesn't feel like you put it there in the first place? Most people don't trust instinct or fate, even destiny, because they think it's childish, to rely on your heart instead of your head. However, if you sit down and think, really think for a minute of how you become happy, it wasn't ever by your head. You never learned to miss something with your head if you never had it in there in the first place. Your heart teaches you, beginning as a child, step by step, how to feel, how to release who you are to someone else, even if it's just through a simple word. For you are just a student to your heart, learning what feelings you need to trust, and which ones you need to use in your life to get places, to make someone happy, to make someone yours. The only way to apply the lessons your heart taught you is by the memories you make, sweet and precious, frustrating and hopeless. They make you understand that even when all is good, it won't stay that way. But when it's bad, when someone is on their knees, begging you to not go with their heart in their hands, you learn. Learn that in the tough times, even when you want to run away, you'll find yourself in a garden, sitting amongst the exquisite things that took their whole lives to bloom, that you will understand the only way to completely be happy is to return. To the one that made you first bloom, flourish, and find worth in who you are as a person no matter what anyone else says. From them comes happiness, a passion so strong that it flows from them into you with the power of dignity. Their smile, their look, can mean so much more than any word ever could. So maybe, just maybe, people can stop for a minute and observe what happiness can do, not only for themselves, but for others. For with happiness comes the fulfillment that a lifetime of searching cannot dream of achieving.

I opened my eyes, and blinked a few times, to transition my eyes to the darkness that blanketed me. What time was it anyways? I sat up, and grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. 7:30. I sighed quietly to myself, knowing that I didn't need to be home until 8. I had told my mom I had made a new friend, and that we were going to be hanging out at Caesar's, our local pizza restaurant, to study for my approaching AP test with Mr. Weatherly. I told myself after I left the house that that was the last time I would lie to her about hanging out with a friend. But I really just needed some time away from her, because she was concerned that I wasn't branching out. With my breath coming out as swirled steam into the night sky, I gazed up to the stars and wished that one day, I'd become truly happy.