When you finish that last math problem, and a wave of calm rolls over you; that's not the feeling. Although relief is close, but it's not on the same spectrum of happiness. Happiness is the bubble of giggles when nothing funny has been done. It's released in the atoms of breaths of laughter, floating into the atmosphere. Happiness is at its most when you are an infant. A baby gazing into the eyes of his guardian, the most honest smile. The innocence of her ignorance is a joy all its own. Happiness is in the tail of a dog, wagging bliss. The purr of a kitten holds the sweetest serenitiy.

    As we grow older, happiness has lost all meaning. It is thought to be held in the material of paper and coins, of letters that reflect "understanding", of clothing and objects that can't radiate their own happiness at all really. Not happiness, but comfort. The same feeling of a warm belly and a clear head. In a way, comfort is a key factor. Comfort does not equal happiness. Happiness is the most innocent feeling. Happininess is having a light heart and finding a moment of beauty in a dark setting. A spark of single minute hope. The warm sensation of the sun, the easiness of words through a pen, a children's drawing of a smiling moon. Things that cannot be bought, but given.

    Happiness is a burst of your heart, running through your veins, a vague tingle that leaves your lips turned upright and your head held high.

     A feeling that can't last through a lonely night, but makes it worth going through.