Why I Hate Happy People

I don’t.

But what’s funny, though, is that they think or do.  Or, even better, they seem to hate me.  They think I’m an evil, bad, horrible person who has the nerve to be unhappy or rain on their parade (or piss in their cornflakes, or whatever you want to call it) by pointing out that, perhaps, sometimes people actually have a reason to be unhappy and – surprisingly – they can be unhappy without the world coming to an end.

If only, these enforced happiness people say, if only we *wanted* to be happy.  Like the Gospel of Prosperity, if we wanted to be rich, we would be.

But it’s not true.  And like the little boy pointing out that the emperor has no clothes, I’m going to be the one who jumps up and says that it’s okay to not be happy sometimes.  And maybe the insistence on being happy is a desperate attempt to be happy and deny those other emotions.

So what if some days I’m not happy?  So what if sometimes I want to have a pity party and eat some birthday cake?  Does that make me a bad person?  A person who doesn’t “want” to be happy?

Somehow, this whole thing conjures up the lyrics of a “Hair” song – “How can people be so heartless? How can people be so cruel?”  Just because you’re happy does not mean that everyone else will be – or can be – all the time.  Sometimes people cycle through natural emotions.  We can be sad, depressed, angry, excited, grumpy, or even, yes, even happy.  But if all we feel is happy, we’re denying the rest of our human experience. 

Why not trying to be nice to those people who aren’t happy instead of attacking them and blaming them for their unhappiness?  Do we really want to make it a blame game, telling people that when they’re unhappy or poor that it’s their own fault? 

If I don’t hate you for being happy, why do you hate me for not being happy?


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