Happy Go Lucky.

"You make me happy,

Whether you know it or not.

We should be happy,

That's what I said from the start." 

You know what's really weird?

When you're sitting at a party, seeing tetris shapes everywhere, and you realise - wow. I'm really, really happy.

Now most people would think that I was high, or taking drugs at said party.

But I wasn't. 

I wasn't even drinking.

For the past couple of days, I've been generally happy. And the strange thing is - I feel weird about it.

If someone is happy - as a longterm emotion, not a passing feeling - they should feel good about everything.

Life is at peace. 

And nothing is wrong.

But I know that my life isn't perfect.

Hell, there's a shitload of things wrong with my life.

But I don't feel like I deserve to be happy right now. 

I'm guilty of so many things. 
Especially leading on male friends.
Even if I don't mean to.

"Maybe I should just embrace this excessive happiness, instead of over-analyzing everything in my life."

So why the hell am I so happy?
I don't have a boyfriend.
I feel like I push my friends away.
I live in a household full of comparison and competition.
I spend my life sitting on the computer.
Why should I be allowed to feel this way?


But maybe I should just take this happy feeling and go with it.
Maybe I should just...embrace this excessive happiness.
Instead of over-analyzing everything in my life. Like I always do.


Perhaps I should just be like the character I'm playing in the Wizard of Oz musical. Whenever the Scarecrow falls down, he just laughs it off and gets back up again.
Because even though I know this happiness has to go back down at one point, perhaps I should just learn to laugh it off and get back up again.
And you know what?
That's just what I'll do.

Old Mother Hubbard.

"Old Mother Hubbard,
Went to the cupboard,
To give the poor dog a bone.
When she came there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none."

When you've been single for what seems like eternity, it actually becomes boring.
Once you get past your lapse of crazy freedom, you realise that suddenly, you miss having someone to just call when you want to talk and know they'll listen. Or go for strolls, hand in hand, not caring about what others think of you. Or lie in someone's arms, while watching a scary movie, knowing that even though the monsters aren't real, there's no way they could jump out of the screen and attack you. Not with that person so close. Even if he breathes heavily. Even if you have extreme sunburn on the side you're using to lean on him making it slightly uncomfortable. Even if there's a cat on the seat above you - vibrating randomly for no apparent reason - ruining any "moment" the two of you might have been sharing (if any).
None of that matters when you feel right. When everything feels right.

So why, later, does everything fall apart? Something that had felt so right before, now has increased doubts and confusion pouring out of every socket.
The person you want to be with seems uninterested and only talks in riddles you just don't seem to be able to understand. 
He brings up the what-ifs that you're not supposed to think about at the start of relationships. Or the fresh start of relationships in some cases.
What if we don't see eachother enough?
What if it's too awkward?
What if I over-analyze everything?
What if I assume every tiny thing you say or write is about me?
What if I just don't like you?

"Give the poor dog a bone."

I have no clue what's going on at the moment in my entire love life situation.
I am given no hints. No possible clues. No secret sources or hidden messages.
I just wish someone would just throw me a bone - and help me out a bit. Before I starve. Like Old Mother Hubbard and her pathetic dog.

Jack and Jill.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill, 
To fetch a pail of water. 
Jack fell down and broke his crown, 
And Jill came tumbling after."  

Why is it, that everywhere Jack goes, Jill follows? 
Shouldn't Jill make her own decisions? Shouldn't she go where she wants, not just where Jack leads her? Jill really should just stand up for herself, without following Jack's footsteps, and lead her own life. 
But what if Jill doesn't want to? What if she's happy going where Jack goes, just because she loves him, and would give up anything, even her own dreams, just to be near this boy, just to be close enough to breathe in his scent? What if she doesn't mind climbing up a stupid, godforsaken hill, fetching a fucking pail of water, just because he wanted to? What if she did everything for him, everything he asked, and more importantly, everything he didn't ask, even when he didn't give her so much as a backwards glance, just so she could be noticed by his own sweet eyes? 

Of course, this poem is based on history, merely cleaned up a bit, and turned nursery rhyme, just for the sake of little kiddies. The story behind the poem is that of King Louis the XVI - who was beheaded during the Reign of Terror in 1793. Naturally, his wife, Queen Marie Antoinette, was beheaded afterwards - another Jill, following the shadowed life of the man she loved.

"And Jill came tumbling after"

Is it in the genetics of all women, to get in over their heads with a significant other? 
And sometimes the feeling is mutual, from both parties, and I deem the woman sane. 
But in the cases of when the male is completely uninterested, and the female still continues stumbling after him, with her heart in her hand, dropping it every now and then, but dusting if off so that it seems as "good as new" - then, and only then, will I deem said woman; insane. 

It is these insane women - the Jills out there - who usually fill the largest percentile of the westernised teenage population. The Jills who can't get it through their thick skulls that they don't have a chance with Jack, yet refuse to give up, always sparking a new flame of hope, whenever said other utters her name (be it to her or about her), or even looks in her direction (be it at her, or through her). 

Of course we've all been a Jill at one point in our lives. Whether our significant others turned out to be Jacks, or Prince Charmings, is what will keep us with the title of Jill, or rip away the stereotype with just satisfaction, so that we become those princesses who ride off into the sunset. 

And you may think that it could be the Jacks' faults. That it is the men who are either the sane or insane ones. But was it Jack who asked Jill to become completely infatuated? No. Jill did it. On her own. It is merely Jill's judgement on what kind of guy Jack is, before she gives up her life to be near him. 

Because Jack had never wanted to fetch a pail of water. He was merely using Jill to get it for him. Manipulating her feelings so she would do his bidding. Because even if Jack hadn't fallen down the hill first, he still would have pushed her down it eventually. He always does.  

"Up Jack got and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper. 
He went to bed and bound his head, 
With vinager and brown paper."  

So whatever happened to poor Jill?