Happiness In Simple Things

Happiness in Simple Things Really Costs

Listen, I’m not proud of everything. I used to think happiness was a gun in my hand, a quick score, the roar of the engine at 2 a.m. — all the things that felt like winning back then. But that “happiness”? It cost me everything real.

I traded the street’s false promises for something quieter, something that aches in a different way. I gave up the adrenaline of knowing I could take what I wanted. I gave up the easy money that never stayed. I gave up the idea that I was untouchable.

What did I gain? My daughter’s laugh when I read her a bedtime story. The way my wife’s hand fits in mine while we watch the sunrise, no cops on the corner. The quiet pride when a kid I mentor says, “Mr. Meyer, I got my first job.” These aren’t flashy. They’re just… there. And they cost me.

The cost wasn’t just time in prison or the years I lost. It was the trust I broke with my own son when I missed his first soccer game. It was the way my old crew looked at me like I’d sold out. It was the nights I cried because I realized I’d chosen a life I didn’t want to live, but I couldn’t go back.

But here’s what I learned: the simple things — a hot cup of coffee with your kids, a clean house, a night without fear — they don’t come free. They cost you your old self. They cost you the lies you told yourself. They cost you the part of you that thought you were too far gone to change.

Was it worth it? Yeah. Every damn day. Because the cost of not changing? That’s the real price. It’s the cost of watching your kids grow up without you. It’s the cost of being alone in a room full of people.

You’re not too far gone. The path to simple happiness? It’s paved with sacrifices you didn’t know you’d make. But the view from here? Worth every single one.

— Francisco Meyer, walking a different path