Happy, Happy, Happy
To deny melancholia is to invite sadness in disguise for a free ride on your shoulder.
Reality is what it is
Be it:
Losing appetite and weight,
Sleeping restlessly,
Waking too early in the morning,
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror feeling slow,
Your mood flat.
You go to work,
Only to find concentration and memory faltering.
Later…
You go for happy hour drink.
Bar mirror reflects your feelings of hopelessness and guilt.
Walking to your apartment…
The darkness is like a lure.
You think about suicide.
You enter the living room…
The wife is still preparing dinner.
You smile,
Even laugh,
Joy bursts from your lungs.
“I hope you had as wonderful a day as I did.”
“Oh, darling… the gym got me going.
Had a glorious chat with the manicurist,
Got a massage,
Bought a new pair of shoes,
Watched ‘The Real Housewives of New Jersey’
And got you some take-out for dinner.
Wonderful? More like an exciting day, yes?”
Another glance in the hallway mirror.
You smile, maintaining your self-inflicted ruse.
“Happy, happy, happy.”
Recent research suggests urban pressure is taking an unprecedented mental toll, leaving many what is called “benign masochism,” that fools most people with the guise of happiness. A continual smiling mood often covers the cuts and scars of melancholia, yet as some flash fiction suggests… most remain unwilling to admit they’re in trouble.
However, my partner knows a woman, divorced, just like that. Granted a lot of money at the divorce has never worked and her spending is way above the norm to the point where she is now becoming desperate for number of reasons having used up all the free money.
As for the mundane, boring and wretched life of the breadwinner, I believe you have touched what becomes of almost every college graduate who thinks he has found the ideal job and life, only to be trapped in the boring despair it's mindless repetition brings.
A good story that many can identify with.
Ron