Shiny

I don’t get happy people. I don’t understand them in the slightest. It’s not that I haven’t had my share of happiness—bliss, even, but for me it’s an occasional emotion, not a constant. And yet some people wear it like a favourite pair of jeans. No matter what happens to them—loss, sickness, the latest Good Charlotte album—they’re always so bloody cheery. Nothing can get them down—they have a song in their heart and some Pollyanna-esque personal motto to get them through the darkest days. While Susie Sunshine beams from her full-body cast, I’m out of it from hearing bad news of the middling variety. It’s not even that I’m necessarily upset or depressed about it (yeah, even a depressed misanthrope takes a break once in a while) but being okay is not the same as being happy. I might not be crying in my beer, but I’m also not grinning like an idiot at everyone who passes my way. Hey, world—isn’t everything awesome! Isn’t life great? Gosh golly gee!!!

I can’t decide if these people are completely stupid or if they’ve discovered the key to life.