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I spent most of my formative years killing myself over the question of happiness, and was miserable for it. I look back to those times, and I smile. They were terrible times (Good parts of it still exist as most of it didn't happen all that long ago), but I remember them fondly because of the stress it put me under. It inspired me to create things that I could never recreate, it inspired me to learn in ways I couldn't now. Was every part of it stellar? Of course not. I've since stopped looking for happiness in any organized sense because somewhere along the way I realized the chaos of it all is so much cooler.