HAPPY
age 6 - “what do you want to be?” a velociraptor
age 8 - “what do you want to be?” a chiropractor
in my youth, i sought to be appropriate
but now, mature, a dream hypochondriac
at 14, i wanted to be an architect
spend my time on something really worth it
at 16, i was on my way to be a defense attorney, aiming
for harvard, hoping to have them begging
17 - nothing
18 - happy.
18 - i want my depressions and anxieties to melt like my childhood dreams
i want my smiles and laughter to ricochet off sharp corners, soften them, until they reach the ears of others
remind them that their lungs still work, too
that they, too, are still able to breathe.
but maybe we don’t want to
we’ve been conditioned not to
not to show peace in front of the miserable
nor contentment in the company of the complacent
despite the fact that we repeat “laughter is the best medicine like a pop song chorus, stuck inside our heads
but why are the ones that need it most the best exceptions?
we gather together like an exclusive club, with meetings in secret places as if we were the
“despondents” anonymous
amongst ourselves in our sodden blanket forts, we brag about our bruises
16 - “i’m more depressed than you”
17 - “well, i have anxiety”
18 - “bipolar, too. triple threat, baby!”
however, if the whispers of our diagnoses, clinical or cynical, make it to the unaffected, glares turn to face us, as if they’d rather replace us than spend their narrowed eyes to show how graceless you people really are
as if the depressed don’t belong outdoors
as if our bodies cannot physically handle the positive side-effects that sunlight might contain
“keep those sad criminals locked away!” mothers cry at us, the monsters
“protect our children from this disease!” even my own father screams
i want my daughters to brag to their friends that their mother taught them that their sadnesses are acceptable
always there while always palpable, but never a source of shame
of embarrassed, pink cheeks, as long as you always try to say
“someday, happy” “someday”
but we teach our little girls and our growing boys that, before obtaining happiness, we must first be content by valuing ourselves of passing grades and GPAs
student loans, get a job, a mortgage, then a life
please your wife, your kids, but not you yet
because you can fix yourself when you’re dead
we must first seek a year end bonus, then craft a new god or idol
but instead
we make the mundane immortal
we must first twist our bodies into hard shells to cover the vulnerabilities that we possess within
we do this because our organs must never feel the sunlight, shiver, but then bloom
instead, we root - then rot
never leaving hometowns, implanting fail safes, just in case
just in case
just in case we win our smiles back from our alarm clocks and day jobs
just in case we find a happiness, we must first…
“we must first,” “we must first,” “we must first…”
18 - stop talking.
we must first silence ourselves and the busy sounds we mumble on monday mornings
we don’t have to first obey the terms and conditions that none of us realized that we had signed up for, a subscription we can’t unsubscribe from that we don’t have time for, nor can we afford
and these things that we toss our signatures at lead to a disguised appendix in the back of the dictionary of life
step 1 - graduate
step 3 - graduate again
step 4 - get married
we get so focused on following every rule we’re force-fed that we didn’t notice that our fabricators omitted step number two
we’re okay with it because we’ve been brainwashed to
we don’t need it as long as we make more than our friends, but it really all depends
2 - be happy
2 - find yourself
2 - be thatself
we don’t question skipping ourselves because we’ve been trained like pavlov’s dog that we mean nothing, and
once we accept it? rewarding.
we’re taught that we mean nothing
that the world doesn’t hold anything better,
not for us
the broken, the depressed, the underfed and stressed
all i am is words that we’ve all been given again
apocalyptic, halitosis, mesozoic, cannabis
memorize, but i ask you…
why don’t we ask why?
…
to distract yourself from yourself to prevent both happiness and distress
distract yourself from yourself
obey, obey! but what for? this isn’t 1984
so stop talking, and treat yourself, for once, because you’re worth it
if i repeat myself, scream enough, will you hear me?
can anyone hear me?
hear me, and be happy.
be happy, be happy, be happy.
18 - worth it
18 - happy.