Just Be Happy
Preface
I remember my first day in kindergarten. My teacher, Mrs. Fillmore, an old woman with crazy gray hair and red lipstick that was more on her teeth than it was her lips, gave us a very simple assignment: draw a picture of what you want to be when you grow up.
While all the other kids around me sat, sucking their thumbs and thinking much too hard about a question that won't even apply to them till their much older, I knew immediately what I wanted to draw. I quickly grabbed the yellow and green crayons that had been placed in front of me and got to work on my picture.
I noted that I was the first one done as I sat back to inspect my drawing. I smiled and nodded to myself, proud of what I had drawn. Mrs. Fillmore saw that I had finished drawing and walked over to where I sat.
"You already done there, kiddo?" She asked with a smile. I could see all the red from her lipstick on her teeth, and I giggled as I nodded.
She took the picture from my desk to see what I had drawn. I watched as her eyebrows furrowed together.
She leaned back down next to me and set the paper back down.
"I don't think you understood what you were supposed to do here, honey." She said as she looked over my drawing again.
"Yes I did!" I exclaimed.
"But, I asked you to write down what you wanted to be when you grew up." She explained again.
I nodded and looked back at my picture. All I had drawn on the blank sheet of paper was a big yellow smiley face with the word "Happy" written under in. It was spelled wrong, but it was the best I could do with the limited knowledge that I had learned from my mother.
"I just want to be happy when I'm all grown up." I explained to the teacher.
She looked at me for another moment, and then stood up and walked away, seemingly speechless.
That was what I had wanted to be all my life. Be happy.
When I was in second grade and mommy and daddy started fighting, I told myself to just be happy.
When I was in 5th grade, and mom vanished, just picked up her stuff and left, I told myself to just be happy.
When I was in 9th grade, and my father started to miss work and stay out late because he w as drinking away his sorrows, I told myself to just be happy.
I'm a senior now with a mother who hasn't contacted me about 8 years, an alcoholic father, and feels alone most of the time. I still tell myself to be happy. Am I happy?
Not so much.
My name is Isabella Swan. I have plain brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion.
And I'm an amazing actress. I may be miserable, but no one knows it. Why?
Because, I just tell them that I'm happy.