I am a happy person. Even when I’m sad, I’m happy. “Why are you always smiling?” You asked me one day. I smiled even bigger, looked over at you and responded: “I sleep a lot, so I’m well rested and that’s why I smile.” We didn’t know each other that well back then and my reply to you wasn’t exactly the truth. The truth was that even when I’m sleep-deprived or angry, I’m still a cheerful person. I’m still happy and bubbly.
Now … what I really wanted to say to you, was that I smile at everyone. I smile at my family, my colleagues and the new municipality garbage man I became friends with, who works on my street. I smile at random people at the gym and I smile at security guards. But most of all dear, I smile at you. I can’t stop smiling. In the morning when I wake up, all I want to do is find your face and smile at it.
When you’re having a bad day at work, and I can’t physically see you, I send you smiles and positivity over the phone. I tell you that you are brilliant and capable.
Not just to make you feel better, but because you actually are all of these great things. I remind you that you’re accomplished and smart and that you’re like no one else I know. I tell you that I will always love you. That I’m here for you and that I always will be.
Smiling back
When I see a frown on your face, I crack a funny joke, I squeeze your hand and give you a giant toothy smile. Even when you’re mad at me, or when you’re mad at the world, I would put everything aside, and do whatever I can in order to get your face to mirror mine. And then I have it — you smile back, and I know that my mission is accomplished.
No one has forced me to be this way. No one raised me to always be smiling and always be happy. My family was very vocal about us expressing our feelings, even if my state of mind was negative I was told to feel and express what I wanted to. “If you are mad, just be mad” my mother used to urge me. As the years went by and I got older, I think I just programmed myself to be bubbly and happy.
I’ve been told that I don’t like to feel and deal with uncomfortable feelings. Sadness gives me anxiety and allowing myself to go through negative emotions, although an essential part to being a human being, is something I really don’t want to experience.
You like me for smiling and being a social butterfly. You like that I have a hundred friends and a million parties to go to.
You love that I’ll always know someone somewhere. But sometimes, I just need a break. Sometimes I don’t feel like smiling. I want to frown and be mad. But will you still like me if I’m a downer?
I think so. I know so, actually. You can always tell when something is wrong I may hide it well from other people, but you listen and you get it. You let me yell and say hurtful things.
When the uncomfortable feelings kick in, I look to you to lift them off my chest. I might have to eventually learn how to deal with it alone, but for now, what’s the harm in having my person help me get over it?