I was happy
just yesterday,
grinning like a fool
at all that I saw
and felt.
Cheeks taut,
teeth drawn out,
I was a positive symbol of
hysteric fright
if one knew not
of my supercilious joy.
I brought my palms together
in rapid succession
beating them,
till they were red
with mirth.
The pink flesh is still sore
with joy.
I pranced on my toes -
a mechanical rabbit
without an off switch;
jumping up and down
in utter revelry.
I was the perverse clown
at an unhinged toddler's
survival celebration.
My feet feel strange now
that I take measured steps.
And yet,
you berate me today;
as I sit silent
in a corner
with an expression
devoid of proclamation,
in the silence
that contemplative reverie begets.
My hands lay comatose,
pink slowly reverting to pale,
my cheeks have finally stopped hurting,
my teeth are wet again
with the fetal blanket of my mouth.
My feet rest in perfect symmetry with the ground.
And yet
you'd prefer the lewd fool,
to the pensive human.
Just so you can escape
your ruminations or lack thereof
in my appropriately exhibited joy.
Or maybe so you can contemptuously ponder
over your suffering
in the face of my frivolous folly;
and feel the sweet burden of fate
dwell on your shoulders
in castles constructed of other's mirth.
Why would you rather have me
laugh in rhythmic folly,
than be solemn in
asymmetrical words?
Maybe
You cannot accept
the not-knowing of my reticence
and worse,
not being the reason why.
Maybe
You want
to see yourself
rendered immortal in suffering
by my laughter.
Oh you!
I'll laugh raucously again,
but in surreptitious contempt,
knowing what false promise
this laughter will beget within you.
I'll laugh;
till you
smile in self-immolation;
and then,
without preamble,
or warning lest you may prepare,
I will stop.
And then,
I will have the last laugh.
Image courtesy: The Guardian: On facial expressions and evolution.
Would you rather share in someone's laughter or someone's truth? The answer seems simple to most of us, especially those that seek the teat of idealism - "truth". But in reality, this answer is farthest away from the truth as could be.
We want to share in your truth but not the gore of it, only the kinds you can tell us with a smile on your face and a twinkle in your voice. We want to hear of your suffering but only in stories that show us courage. We want to wipe your tears but only when the tears are caused by empathy or mirth. We want to lick your bare soul but only when the soul is stripped of its skin and dressed up in a fashionable hue. We may even want to devour your pain when it is expressed in an art form that lends dignity to our apparent depth of empathetic understanding.
But on a more regular day, just give us a little laughter, and some breezy comments so we forget our humanity and revel in our animalistic simplicity. And later, we can tell ourselves that you have it easy, and we have it tough and feel a little better about the pain we bear in apparent stoic sensibility. If you remind us of our humanity, we will blame you, judge you and maybe even cast you away as a "human". So remember to keep laughing, so we can have the last laugh.
The prose today looks at the societal standards of a regular human interaction and the cyclical perpetuity of shared mirth and hidden ruminations. Here's to a Sunday where you're comfortable enough to not seek the last laugh.
Happy Sunday!
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