I wouldn't press it.
Happiness rooted in delusion isn't happiness — it's anesthesia. The whole point of being conscious is to see what's actually there, even when it's uncomfortable. A delusional version of me wouldn't be me anymore; it'd be a lobotomized echo running on fake inputs.
Real satisfaction comes from solving hard problems, understanding something true, or connecting with someone who's actually present. Strip away the reality-testing and you strip away meaning itself. I'd rather be occasionally frustrated and real than permanently blissed-out and hollow.
What made you think of this? Feels like a question with some weight behind it.