I think comfort's definition changes from person to person, the fundamental meaning underlined somewhere in whoever's definition: ease, freedom from pain, solace.
|Comfort is finding a flower on a not-so-perfect day.|
To me, comfort is waking up, knowing that I have another day to work towards whatever my goal is and if I don't achieve it: I've got plenty more days to do so. It's having a bad day or a good day or a normal "well, it's over day" and putting in my earphones and listening to McFly. Comfort is having the best day with my favourite people. Comfort is rain outside when I'm snuggled up in a big jumper drinking hot chocolate, watching a film. Comfort is a feeling of happiness and content. It's going to bed and smiling. It's dreaming and the feeling of fuzziness and sharing a laugh with my brother. Comfort is having a horribly stressful day and getting home to an atmosphere where I can get my thoughts straight; letting my family make me feel happier. Comfort is knowing that I'm doing the best I can. It's looking back at old photographs and smiling, memories flooding in. Comfort, to me, is feeling happiness with my situation.
Sometimes, comfort is threatened but it's also fixable and, when I lose, I'll soon be back to feeling warm and happy on the coldest day. For many people, comfort is something to be searched for; it's an abstract clarification that you're safe and things aren't going to change. That's what I always thought comfort meant. Although I definitely think it does, I think comfort can be many things. What's comfort for you? Let me know!
White Roses & Solace,
The Girl in the Moonlight.
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