the day of supposed happiness

30.10.2025

Again. Again it was the day. It was unlooked for. Hoped against. But what were we against the inevitability of time? A mere ant cannot swim against the current.

What was it that he was aiming to swim against? The day of supposed happiness.

It was supposed to be a day of celebration. A day of connection. A day that was to be remembered with fond memories.

Instead, every time, it was a day of sadness, hopelessness. If despair could be moulded into a shape, it was this day.

The day was like his leg. After they had burnt off the veins inside, they had damaged the nerves. If he brushed his hands against his calf, he could only just about feel it there.

How do we get through such a day?

In the morning, he lay there unmoving. What was racing with thought was his mind. What was fighting with every breath was his heart.

This burden of a day that was supposed to be happy. This burden of celebration. It was expected and wanted. He was being asked to perform again for this crowd. They that did not understand. That could not understand. He was sick of their inability to understand. And of the exhibition of emotions that did not run through him, which he would have to pluck from the theatre of selves around him.

Yet there were those that could be genuinely and earnestly happy on this day of supposed happiness.

They did not live his life.