This Time article says that you will become increasingly unhappy until you turn 44, and then you will get hit by a bus.
I could argue that the.effing.librarian is unhappy or disgruntled or even bi-polar (or manic-depressive, although I prefer hyper-melancholic). Regarding emotional states, I like to mix it up.
But knowing that I've already been just about as unhappy as I could ever be and that the best years of my life are ahead of me, well, kinda makes me sad.
I don't even know how I would define not being happy. Outside of being ill or broke, I don't know if I've ever been really unhappy. I remember how terrified I was for the month after I graduated from library school that I wouldn't find a job, and that I'd have to go back to working in retail in some store serving unhappy people who complain all the time and do god-awful things in the fitting rooms and steal and have no respect for any of the nice things the store was trying to do. I wanted to be a librarian and work in a library.
Yes, because I wasn't aware that people would behave exactly the same. Silly me.
The.effing.librarian has had a full and exciting life so far. I'd tell you more, but then I might never to be able to sell my fake memoir later when I pretend to be someone else.
