Dear Anonymous

You are exactly the reason I don't like to write about my happiness. People who complain about my complaints I have no beef with. But people who call me an idiot and not cool on my own blog I do have a beef with. If you say nasty things about me when I am complaining, then I can only imagine what you will say about my happiness, and that, my dear, I simply cannot abide.

Hi There! Long Time, No See!

I have heard it all before.

"You don't blog anymore."

"You aren't writing anymore."

But I have a good excuse. I'm happy!

I know it seems odd, but when I am happy, I can't write about it. I just can't do it. Everything I have to say seems so lame and cute and trite, that writing, well, makes me hate how happy I am.

For some reason, I feel I can express myself better with words only when I am angry. But when I am happy, all I feel like saying is stupid driveling shit that makes me want to puke on any other given day.

For instance, "I like him." Oh, God, I am making myself sick. Who cares? Who honestly cares if I like this guy or not? No one wants to hear me go on and on about how fantastic he is, and what other funny thing he said the other day. No one. And I don't blame you! Not at all! And my friends have to put up with it when I am talking because I adore talking. And I want to make myself puke then, too.

When I am happy and I sound like a teenage girl with a crush, I feel so dumb. I just simply don't know what to do with myself. So, rather than write, I wallow in the cheesy, boring to everyone else but me, lovey-dovey world that I am in right now. Suffice to say, I am happy! And having a good time.

And I won't bother you with it.