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Are You Happy?

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Are you happy?

 

Blue fiddled with his scarf in the darkness, the moonlight spilling through the window. It illuminated the dust that accumulated within the room, nobody having swept or dusted for so long that it clogged the air like a melancholy fog.

 

Dust.

 

Funny, it seemed not too long ago that the mere thought of dust was terrifying. He couldn’t bring himself to stand up against the wave of sadness ebbing through his soul. He was a sad, sad soul, wasn’t he? Sitting on this bed, doing nothing for himself, nothing for anyone else.

 

He would cry, but he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left. They left when the others did.

 

He’d memorized every odd jag and curve of the old spot on the carpet. He would give them so much guff for not bothering to clean up their messes, finding something better to do as a joke. They’d come back after a few and help, sure, but it broke the monotony. If he were being honest with himself, it broke the crushing silence and the loneliness that threatened to suffocate him.

 

Suffocate him, eh? Couldn’t be that bad. He tugged at the scarf again. It was a ratty old thing, just as he was a bitter old soul. Couldn’t save them. Couldn’t save himself. Couldn’t save a damn thing if he tried.

 

The corner of his eye socket stung. He knew very well what sadness felt like. He hadn’t felt much of anything in so long, it was like an old friend had come to visit. Sit aside and stay a while, old friend. Please save him.

 

Are you happy?

 

He could almost hear the words hanging in the air. His face hurt, it hadn’t moved in quite some time. Why would it? He couldn’t feel anything anymore. They took what was left of him.

 

They didn’t leave on accident. Did it hurt? Probably. He wasn’t sure anymore.

 

Was he happy? What did happy feel like?

 

Happiness was being surrounded by the ones you love. Happiness was sharing laughs, starting fights, fighting fights, winning fights. Happiness was when nobody lost a fight, but rather, words came to solve them before fists did. Happiness was sharing things with loved ones.

 

Happiness was sharing himself with his loved ones. His loved one.

 

Happiness was, was, was…

 

His facade cracked for just a moment, a melancholy twitch at the side of his mouth threatening a small grin.

 

Happiness was making others happy, sharing happiness with others.

 

The only thing he could share with them now,

 

was this shrinking room full of regrets and unspoken words—

 

was this never-ending night with the moon watching over him and remind him—

 

was this stagnant air, full of dust, full of memories, full of nothing—

 

the three jars glimmering in the light, in his lap.

 

maybe he’d be happy too, if he found his way inside the jars, instead of the air--

 

 

just like sans, red, and razz had found happiness inside them first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in the end, he’d think to himself sadly, he’d hoped to have the tenacity to persevere.

 

this stupid old scarf, he’d also think, held them—would it hold him too?