I was never happy and nor have I lived with joy within me, but I always managed to smile every day and in every single second of my minutes. Being classified in the category of ‘the happiest’ was the mantle I received with pride every year. This taught me to never judge a book by its cover.
Oh, my cover was filled with joy everlasting I tell you, but the inside! The pages that were covered by that attractive cover were a fact of life. My life began to climb up the high mountain after I was raped by two giants. I was filled with anger and vengeance when they were not arrested because they didn’t plead guilty before the Court and His Highness. The only thing I thought of after all this was simply narrowing my path to happiness by killing those who stole the little light of my joy. My path to evil was very easy because every second the power of anger rejuvenated it and made it look like the Holy highway. It just made it seem like life’s greatest achievement.
I planned it all out and it was a perfect slageister to trap my rats. I planned this for my emotional health’s sake. I was happy to be en route to happiness, gladness, and freedom… oh yes, the freedom of being happy inside out without anything to remind me of my past and my sadness. They came running to danger like headless chickens. They came running to meet their fate. When they came back to the land of the living, the slag had them already. They had their legs dangling and dancing to my music before they drifted off to Lala-land.
I expected a lot to come out of what I’d done. The simplest thing was happiness. Like a normal being, I wanted to be happy, but I lied to myself because everything was worse than before. My burden was heavier to carry and my spirit was too down to be lifted. I never wanted to be anything like them, but when they were dead, I realised I was actually more or less like them.
My heavy load was added to my guilt; my cup of sorrow was filled with self-hate and my horrible nightmares were addled with fear.
Even if the police could track down the person who committed the murder, I felt as if I was already arrested by my own emotions. I was a prisoner of myself, a prisoner of my actions and a prisoner to my suffering emotions.
I smiled even when I was hallucinating and I laughed just to run away from my fears.
I was a book with pages inked with sadness but on my cover was written: “Read me, for I am the happiest book”. People wished to have my life because I always appeared as the happiest human alive on the face of Planet Earth.
This made me realise that it can be an unattractive cover with happy pages. You will never know until you read the book yourself. What I know is that I was the happy cover… Don’t judge a book by its cover…