a happy person. cynical, yes. bossy, that too. but happy for the most part. and many good people love me. and there’s nothing else i could want. right?
its so hard for me to live life as i should. a sense of guilt lingers. why is my bed so warm at night? why are my friends so nice? why does my head think as it should?
i live with a burden because life is not so good for many others. i feel so undeserving sometimes.
i remember a time when i was a child. my dad acted like a tiger and chased me and my sister upstairs. we pretended we were scared, but we laughed inside.
i remember my mom bought me make-up and taught me how to put it on.
i remember when my big brothers would read stories to me or buy me the new Sublime CD.
i remember when my sister and i would play store.
i remember when my maternal grandpa took us to eat ice cream, and when my maternal grandma taught me to make eggrolls from scratch. or when my paternal grandma made my hair into pigtails and my paternal grandfather told me which finger was my ring finger.
once, a teacher told me i should be a social advocate. another told me i was the one of the best students they’d ever had. and i believe that i was.
stories upon stories. memories upon memories. i have many reasons to be happy. but i’m cynical because i can think of reasons why i’m happy and many others cannot.
-VC
