What does your joy look like today?

The fact that I still breathe and I’m alive [ yeee ]

My joy is in God and music, especially gospel music.

My joy is in New York, has reddish-brown hair, fox-like features, freckles, and feline eyes, is 5’ 5” and probably not wearing anything right now.

My joy is in the desert, has thick brown hair, wistful green eyes, is 5’ 6” or so, and is probably wearing a baggy t shirt.

My joy is milky black and spread across pages and its purpose is to evoke feelings, both good and bad, in anyone who sees it.

@Fiddle_Playing_Creole_Bastard,
That last one reminded me of this:
“My joy sat there with glimmering eyes, and the look of love, and he told me I’d be okay without him…
My joy looked that way when he wrote for me one last time.
(This was/is VERY important.)
When I saw him writing I caught a shimmer of passionate romanticism…
His hands, and his eyes held the pen with understanding. (And patience)
An equality that his heart rarely shows.
His worlds, or his love for the worlds, helped me understand the more “Humanistic” side of humanity.
If we all watched a writer who loved the writen words we’d all understand the meaning of true love.”

@AshLeigh I dig that, and it is certainly relevant. Where did you get the idea for this thread, if you don’t mind my asking?

@Fiddle_Playing_Creole_Bastard,
Wait, you did what?(:
I don’t really know… I was just writing, and thought of this question.

@AshLeigh I dig what you posted. Dig is slang for “like.”

@Fiddle_Playing_Creole_Bastard,
Ohh. Well thank you. Haha.

My joy is with me in thought, though physically away from me over 3500 miles.

My joy is in Holland and is blond, blond and brunette. Probably sitting in a school bench and visiting a university. Wearing jeans, shirts and a sexy dress.

Looks like everyones joy is far away. :/

My joy came last night, a trip away left me in need of hugs and kisses from my darling babies. I came in late and watched them sleep, just for a little while.

Their joy came with my hugs this morning.

My pride & joy (both of the little darlings) are at this present moment in school.

My joy today is hopefully buying the car I saw yesterday that seemed to be calling my name.

My joy is the view of the partially dead tree out my window, a frame for various birds and the occasional squirrel, a passing parade of visiting life.

My joy is found in the softness of my dogs’ fur, their melting eyes, their wagging tails, their unconditional love.

My joy is the light on my husband’s face when he is coming toward me, how his step quickens at the sight of me.

My joy is the quiet of the woods I experienced this past weekend.

My joy is the happiness I see on my childrens faces, the laughter I hear in their voices and see in their eyes. I love spending time with them.
My joy is the hope for a happy and joyous future with them
My joy is going to the beach on a warm summers day and enjoying the water
My joy is hoping to find love and happiness someday to fill the void I feel not having a partner in my life to share it my life with.

My joy is in Michigan; red curly locks, light green eyes that would make you make melt, a sweet/sexy swagger and a beautiful heart..

My joy is the phone call that I receive from from niece. When life is at it’s lowest point, for some reason, I always hear from her. Happens quite often. Makes me forget all of my troubles for a moment.

My joy is the love that I feel for my family, and the love that I get in return.

My joy is music and nature. Escaping for awhile. Actually, feeling something. Pulls me out of my numbness.

My girlfriend’s:

My joy is in Ontario; a soft dark brunette with sparkly blue eyes and strong legs and arms that I long to have wrapped around me. She moves about with a quiet calmness that hides an inner sense of adventure and mystery. Every moment spent with her is amazing.

My joy is with my family and those that I love. The comfort of knowing that in their presence I will always feel loved and at home. I am truly to blessed to have a wonderful family that have been the supportive roots that have given me strength to grow and blossom and continue to love and evolve in my life.

My joy is in the beauty of being in the moment and appreciating what a gift it is to be alive and to be able to experience a warm fragrant breeze, a breathtaking view, a splash of cold water, being in the woods or on the lake with the love of my life, the exhilaration of trying something that is a little out of my comfort zone.

My joy is rotting from head to feet, coming after me, but soon I will show my appreciation with a splendid bouquet of blood and entrails, bone fragments and severed limbs. Orchestrated by the chainsaw’s symphony, my joy is relentless, and just can’t keep away.

My joy is a tall blonde that calls itself the end of the world, and it sure is the end of my world, when I share in its frothy embrace. Cool to the touch, yet so warm to the heart. My joy is a traitor, as he can’t help to pay for medical bills when my liver kicks my ass. (or comes out of it, one or the other)

My joy has dark red hair, gently dancing in the wind. His eyes are gray, I look into them and I can’t look away. My joy will never smile at me, but he loves and takes care of me. He cries frozen tears when he must leave, yet they always feel so good when they fall on my cheeks.
My joy has laws to obey, and once we’re done our magical date on the day of the dead, he is saddened that his time is soon to end, and like barren trees hoping to snag a star, he grasps for me helplessly. But he gives me a promise, a gift, through frozen nights of sweet silence, and I know that my joy will return soon to claim me again, and chase away the people and the light.

^You are awesome.

Arigato. ^^

A placeholder high school diploma.

My joy is we are swamped at work and I came home and lit a fire in the fireplace. Now sitting on the couch next to my wife with the hound at my feet.

My joy is crushed and broken i the dust. My joy was once young, and tall, and beautiful. My joy could look down through the trees, but I was never frightened by the size of my joy.
My joy was easy going, graceful, with a smile that shown like a lake reflection on a July midday.
My joy was there for everyone, but some resented my joy, and wanted it for themselves.
My joy was attacked, first from here, and then there, huge chunks being bitten from my beloved joy’s face, and stomach, and hands.
My joy was clubbed, with a powerful force. I tried to prevent it but I was too small, and then too sick.
My joy has not been killed, but lies there, in the dust, wanting to be revived or released.
I want my joy to stand tall again, but I pull, and pull, and my joy is just too weak to be up again.
I let my joy have a rest. Perhaps it will feel better and be back to share my days with me again.
My joy whispers to me sometimes, so weak, but still wanting to go with me.