To be happy is sad.

If I had to describe myself, I would say that I’m a generally happy-go-lucky person and that over all, I exude positivity most of the time. Of course I’m not saying that I’m a perfect person because I’m not. I can be overly bitchy (most times for no reason), and is a little too impatient and quite a few other flaws, but we’re talking about generalities here and being loud and happy seems to be the vibes I give to most people.

I definitely have my off days for sure, like how I said previously I get into this depressive, funky mood once in a while. Which can be frustrating because most people are not used to seeing that side of me and expect me to be my jovial self all the damn time. Say for example if I get run over by a car, I’m supposed to just get up, dust myself off and maybe make a joke that I didn’t die all thanks to my blubber. Or if I get insulted by someone making a fat joke, I’m not supposed to portray any sign of being hurt, but instead counter that joke with another self-deprecating one.

Hey. I have feelings too. Just because it doesn’t show on my face doesn’t mean I don’t feel embarrassed or sad.

Someone said recently, (after I said that I have things on my mind) that I would be the last person he would think would have problems. It’s just that I manage my emotions better than most, that’s all.

And I’ve come to realise that people like myself are truly the saddest. I personally prefer to keep stuff to myself because people tend to not take me seriously, brush me off, or say I’m being dramatic (that, I concur on some levels). Also, because I’m such an emotional person, I’m scared to share because the waterworks tend to come on even before I finish my story and people are generally freaked out by tears (personally guilty).

But my negative feelings eat at myself, and it can get quite unbearable at times. I know people always say alcohol will not solve any problems, but I beg to differ. Drinking to a certain degree of drunken stupor does help because you tend to forget all your problems during that time. I have not reached that stage where I reach for a bottle each time I’m sad, but the thought of having drinks does come to my mind.

Since X has been mostly out of the picture, and some of my closest friends are out of the radar, I feel an incredible sense of loss when I need to talk. People say they trust me and tell me their problems, but I cannot seem to do the same because of the myriad of reasons above.

Maybe, just maybe, being so happy most of the time isn’t such a good thing after all.



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