Happiness

 

My friend told me a joke,

So I threw my head back and laughed;

The girl behind me shook her head,

And said, “Dude, you’re such a cheerful person”.

I smiled when I heard that,

Everyone thought I was happy;

Little did they know that I wore a mask,

To hide my actual face from the world.

 

My friends once had a conversation–

On happiness, something we all craved;

One of them used me as an example,

I snorted and then smiled,

“Do I look like a happy person?”, I said.

“Yes!” said he, “You’re always joking around,

I can’t imagine what you’d look like crying”

And then he looked at me questioningly

“Have you ever cried?” he asked.

 

I don’t think he meant to be funny,

It was a legitimate question;

After all, I was the friendly guy,

“The glue of the group”, they said,

Whose humour seemed inexhaustible;

How could such a person have negative feelings?

 

But I didn’t blame him for not

Recognising my actual thoughts;

Very few people knew the real me–

The me, who dreams about the end everyday,

Who writes suicide notes “just in case”.

 

What they didn’t know was that it was a cycle,

You keep everything to yourself to not bother anyone;

You feel awful about keeping it inside, but

You think about how much of a burden you’d be,

And “being a burden” convinces you

That you’re a horrible person,

Then you keep that to yourself, and the cycle repeats.

 

You can’t even see the change sometimes–

It can be subtle but it will be there,

Like how they get frustrated easily,

Or how they avoid social interaction.

Maybe it’s the wild change in hairstyle,

Or the music their earphones blast out;

 

But the change is not meant to be seen,

For it is covered by a mask;

A mask that nobody can see,

A mask made up of a beaming face,

A mask comprising of  “I’m okay”,

It’s the mask of happiness,

The most deceiving mask of them all.

 

One day, I was talking about this,

And a friend curiously asked me,

“What do depressed people look like?”

I looked at him, smiled, and said

“Happy”.