Is Happiness a Presence or Void?

I was told something earlier this year.

I was told to "tone something down" in regards to a comment I had made. Context— a lot of incorrect make-up was applied and I how wronged it looked. It wasn't done intentionally, but the look was the same. It looked like black face. 

I responded with "I will never tone it down."

Moments like this tend to label "this is the mood of 2020" but it's not. It's the reaction of the different context I've read, knowledge I've sought and consumed, and my own opinions, crafted and refined because what I've acquired. Racism is a plague with no vaccine. It's a flu that you can quell with a mild solution, and accept that it kills people. It becomes a standard in living. Something you see, accept and move on. 

Maybe it's progress, not a place to stop, but a milestone of where we've come. It's better, but it's not good enough. I don't even know what good enough looks or feels like. 

In my early years, I lived in a blissful environment when I didn't even consider thoughts like this. It was founded in ignorance and placated most of my actions. All aspects of my life were this, and I think...I think this was the last time I've considered myself happy. Living in the void of reality brought a smile to my face. 

Parts of that flicker in my day to day. It hurts me when I think and write this. I focus making myself better, but I allow my failures to weigh me down. It urges me to go back to the void. Go back to the things that brought a smile to my face, but not in the long run; just an hour, a few days, weeks. Seeking better was too far gone. Instead I searched for okay. 

I guess the risk of better involves coming up short, which makes the definition of happiness more of an acceptance of what is available. 

Does that mean I need to eat until I'm full, or drain a cyst?