No Other Way

I only know one way to keep being happy.
No one has taught me any other way.
And it feels fine.
Just gets to me sometimes.

Everyone has gone through this phase at some point in their lives.
They have gone through all these things --- ecstasy, helplessness, addiction, depression, plateau plateau plateau.
Down in the dumps they find themselves.
Oh well. It's just one of those nights.
Those awfully lonely nights.

Last weekend I had two strangers read my palm.
One was a lady I met at the beach.
Another was a man I met at the bar.
They both said the same thing.
And once again, after weeks of keeping it in the periphery, it came out, exploded, like a waterfall, water running hard and fast and there was no way to stop it.
Why would they see that in my palm?
They didn't even know where I had been, didn't even know what I had gone through.
They didn't know me at all.
Why would they tell me the answer that I secretly, desperately tried to find?
And how dare they tell me that?
How dare they tell me things I wished for but wanted to go away?
If it never happened I would be doomed.If it did I'd be... I don't know.

And then it would take more than Hibiki nights, more than vodka and wine and whisky, more than parties and movie dates and nice dinners to stop the nightmares.
I don't know what else I'd do.

I don't know any other way to keep being happy.