All right. Let’s pretend I’m so incredibly happy my brain is thinking about rainbows and butterflies and I’m waving good morning to the mailman. I let my guard down. Next thing I know, something takes a dark turn. But I don’t even realize it because I’m over here staring at a bright patch of happy light. All of a sudden, I’ve fallen into a hole and have no rope, no ladder, and the walls are too slippery to climb out of. Happiness makes me lose focus. It makes me weak. I can’t stand it. Does that make sense to you now?
Elisa Marie Hopkins
happiness, happy