Lick dry lips as my eyes drop from screen to hands and back. Warm moist palms and my clothes drape along my form, and the icky contaminated feeling hangs and sticks like sweat. All songs end soon before I even think to mouth the words. Hair falls in the way, but there it stays, unwilling to touch it. I save each word and each word rings in my mind before is slips in with the rest I remember.
I'll pretend I'm sad just so I can smile.
But I am sad, aren't I? Yes, I was, until you showed up. Did you know that I smile even when I'm unhappy? I can smile when I'm sad. And when I'm angry. Which is a pity. Because you'll assume I'm happy and you'll assume it's funny, when it's not, and I'm not. I may smile at what is said, but what was done is making me upset. The bad is, 'You're laughing!! Stop pretending to be mad!' I'm not pretending to be mad, I am mad, but I'm laughing. My body doesn't agree with my emotions, sometimes. I laugh when I'm really, really sad, sometimes. I'll smile, because what can I do...? Laughing and laughing, trying to pretend it's all okay.
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