Cheer up, Buttercup

Stop being so happy all the time.

You're making me jealous.

I woke up so. fucking. grumpy.

My poor cat came into my room at the same ungodly hour he always does, wondering why I hadn't yet gotten up to feed him. 

He plaintively meowed in the same tone a toddler would whine. 

And I groaned back loudly annoyed. 

And rolled away from him, throwing the covers over my head. 

I did not want to get up. 

I was annoyed. 

I was annoyed that I was annoyed. 

I just wanted to sleep. 

For days. 

So I decided to get beautiful. 

Because when you hate everyone the best thing you can do is put on your lipstick. 

And I stared up at my made up reflection in the mirror and sighed. 

I still wanted to go to sleep. 

But at least I looked put together. 

And when you feel like a fucking mess looking fine is your greatest armor. 

I found Cartier in the living room happily finishing his breakfast and gently stroked his head. 

I really loved him. 

He kind of saved my heart when it was alone. 

I got to work and didn't greet anyone. 

I always say good morning. 

But I couldn't today. 

I'd already used up the energy I had to put my makeup on. 

So I just sat down and started working. 

And then as minutes faded away I felt more energy surge through my body. 

I reached into the bag I'd set on my desk and pulled out a feather boa as bright fuschia as the dress I wore to homecoming. 

I draped it across my desk. 

And I took a lavender one and draped it across a shelf. 

The colors made me happy. 

And minutes became hours and I cheerfully sang hello to the girl who sat across from me. 

And she returned the greeting and then stopped what she was doing and just stared at me.

Stop being so happy all the time.

You're making me jealous.

Then she felt embarrassed because she knew I didn't know her well enough to know she was only partially kidding. 

So I stared back and said, If it makes you feel any better I was really grumpy this morning and hating boys and listening to Fiona Apple.

And she said, That does make me feel better. 

And then I reached into my bag again and grabbed a royal blue feather boa. 

And without even asking I started scattering it across her desk. 

Here. You just need a feather boa.

And she lightly laughed. 

But she kept it there all day. 

And after she left for the day it still lay there. 

And that made me happy. 

Because sometimes we need a surge of color on a grey morning. 

And I was trying so hard to combat my disappointment. 

And she had no idea how much I was working to try and float in a cloud of joy. 

She thought it just came easy. 

But it was work. 

Joy is work. 

Life is work. 

Laughter. 

And pain. 

And expectation. 

And rejection. 

And repetition. 

And the threat of monotony. 

But I'd decided, I chose, to make something bright when I wanted to give in to the shadows. 

And all my work, all my efforts to lift my own soul out of defeat, had lifted her. 

And that was enough. 

A smile. 

Was enough. 

It really was.