Are you happy? you might ask me, and I won't know how to respond.
I suppose I could lie through my teeth like a reply to a dentist drilling into them, tell you I'm happy, because I have nothing to be sad about.
I could tell you that I do well in school, but that is only the numbers, and I could tell you that I have a lot of friends, but that again is only the numbers.
Are you happy? But what is happy, what does it mean? How do I know when I myself am happy, and how do I know when others are happy?
I could tell you that I laughed today, but how do you know it was not at the expense of another? I could tell you I smiled all day, but so do the glossy girls on magazine covers.
But are you sad? you might ask me, and I'd tell you the truth if I knew it my self.
I suppose I could tell you that school's a bore, that I'm tired all of the time. But can I not accept that and be happy?
Are you sad? But I'm not. Not most of the time.
Are you happy? I sang today, with people I care about. I found a secluded little park and I whispered words of gratitude to the grass below me.
But if I spoke the truth, you wouldn't be able to take it, because how can I put into words what I cannot put into feeling?
And what about you? Are you happy?
Some complex inner thoughts to confuse your day.