It’s following me again, a shadow of optimism darkening my steps. It seeps in while I’m cooking dinner. It spices my food with a certain cryptic joy. It sits silently next to me at dinner, demanding seconds, thirds, and all the following helpings.
It wraps my presents for me, a maddening thrill trapped inside each for my unsuspecting recipients. It gives and gives and laughs as I quietly accept each offer.
It buoys me up in the water, my body stiffly held in safety to the sky. It creases my eyes, disfigures my mouth into a semblance of a smile.
Though my body craves depression, and my mind aches for solitude, it soon returns bringing with it a tedium of comfort. I begin to grew mad with unfettered happiness. This is it’s true purpose, to drive me to distracted joy one torturous, blissful moment at a time until my resolve melts into useless, joyful depravity.