You can never be perfectly happy with someone. You can be VERY happy, even MOSTLY happy. But not perfectly happy. The only way you could is if the person were to remain a fantasy. Because everyone is imperfect, and there’s always a certain amount of friction no matter how good things are. You fall short of ideal, and so does the other guy.

Logically I know this, it makes perfect sense, but when I think about it I still feel melancholy. It just seems programmed into our nature to always wonder “what if?” I’ll try and be happy, be satisfied with what I have. And usually I am. But that mood indigo still comes spilling over me from time to time.