I was reading "Iron and Silk," a novel about an English professor who moved to China to teach Chinese medical students English. In the middle of it, he asks the students to write a composition about their happiest moment. I, being the good AP English student that I am, with the exam in less than a week, immmeidately hammered out an essay. I thought it was cool, so I'll put it here.

My happiest moment
I always live with the hope that I will be happier than I am now. But the things I hope for are not the things that make me happy, or even matter at all. I hope for a house and a job. They really don't matter to me, because all of my happiest moments are without houses and when I'm in this state, I don't even remember if I even do anything for a living. I don't remember that I have to go to sleep or wake up tomorrow, I don't remember working or my name. It's the moment that counts. It's the moments of running through fields and forests barefoot in the warmth of a beautiful summer night. It's when you stop to look at the black waters run through the moon's reflection, when the perfume of the nearby flowers is heady and disorienting. It's when the moon is full, the nights are warm, the bass is heavy, and the glox stix shine brightly in the dark. It's when you dance and forget that you're alive for all the living you do right then. These are the moments I live for, this is the dark poetry that sings through my soul. This life, this night, this rave.