Something to remind us the ephemera and impertinence of our little fragments of joy.
Yesterday, a friend of mine asked me why I looked depressed. I wanted to tell him that I was melancholic, which is a different thing. But, I don’t like to tell people the mere thoughts on my mind. So, I just passed over it and smiled.
Three days ago, I, finally, talked with that girl. It was an unaccustomed and weird-that I know I talked about such things, but they were all unrelated. I couldn't help but jumped over from one topic to another like a grasshopper does when it sees the new-born spring grass. But, the other day I was sad again – for that the girl saw me, but not even waved at me. So, I took a walk at night to see the moon’s lonely but a merry look, shining in-and-among itself.
“Why don’t you tell something”, shouted my friend at me the other day. “We talked for twenty minutes, and you didn't even frown”, was his last sentence. Why did he ask that to me? Am I not always like that? That ignorant person with a deceptive smile on his face? But, I smiled again and passed over it.
People tell that I look sad, but when asked of it, don’t tell the reason. But, sometimes I feel sad, not because I feel separated and far away from them. Nor is it because I cannot tell what I want. It is just because.
It is like the sadness is a person and searches for someone to live with, yet always finds me.
Perhaps, no one can help me to get out of this-that the sadness has become a capsule of my soul. But, I am not upset about this. Maybe, I don’t want to be with people; maybe, this will always be the same way. But, I am used to it. Yet more, I like it. Sometimes, when I get lonely and aloof, which people say is same as being sad, a new window is opened to me. A window so full of sorrows and happiness at the same time, all merged and tangled together. And sometimes, that makes me smile. I laugh at the delight, at the epiphany of the complexity, the inconceivable scenery of the life.
--Yet, this burden persists. But, I do not have an exit from it. Sometimes, because I am sad, I want to cry in front of everybody; I want to scream when taking a shower. But, I can’t. I can’t, because I am afraid people would talk behind me. I can’t, because I want to look happy like everyone else is.
So, I hid myself. I conceal my soul behind a facade of deceptive smile-for that way, nobody would see my true soul; for that way, that way I would be happy.