Every winter I let my happy have a break; I pick it up, and I take it outside, and I get a big shovel and dig a hole in the snow. I put my happy in the hole, cover it up, and stomp on it extra hard to make sure nothing else will get at it.
I always feel sad when my happy is having a break; happy makes my vision different; I see more colors with it, and I notice smiles and pretty things more.
A lot of people give their happies breaks during the winter-time. Happy does a lot of work over the summer, even with the sun and the flowers and stuff to help it. I get real sad without my happy, but I’ll manage.
Sometimes I look outside over the snow at night, when it’s all smooth and the street lights shine gold on them, and it’s all so perfect I can’t even tell where the hole is; I almost feel like my happy is back when it’s like that outside, but then I GO outside and it’s cold and my breath freezes and little ice-needles poke at my skin. Then I miss my happy again.
In the spring-time, the snow will melt away, but usually my happy has sunk into the mud by the time the snow I packed extra-hard melts off, and mud is hard to dig through, so I have to wait until spring is almost over before I can have my happy back.
Happy is always so much more energetic after the spring; I think it’s glad to be back, even if it does like the vacation under the snow.
So this winter, I buried my happy, like always; the ground is white and I am blue. When the ground is green again, I’ll dig up my happy, and my blue will take a break, instead
- Title: Buried my Happy
- Artist: Hiraetha
- Description: A short work of prose, purposefully written with simple language. Meant as just a different take on 'Winter Depression', but I can definately see this being overanalyzed to heck and back in an English classroom one day.
- Date: 06/11/2009
- Tags: buried happy
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