1. Bliss

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1. Bliss
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bliss (n.)

perfect happiness

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He couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't stop smiling to the point where it hurt. To the point where he died with a smile on his face.

But they were right about ignorance being bliss. He realized too late that he had just been planning a suicide.

He had been one of those kids who had everything growing up. He never lacked in food and a roof over his head. And he was happy about that. He made sure to let the world know. And his presence was always known because he announced it with a smile.

He was always smiling.

And so they called him the boy who smiled. It was because of the fact that not everyone smiled that he was distinct from the rest. It was because of the fact that he lived blissfully that he actually lived. And so dying wasn't that big of a deal. Because everyone died. But not everyone smiled. And that made all the difference.

He was always smiling.

Always.

When they praised him, he smiled. When they said his name, he smiled. When he walked in the rain to the bus stop, he smiled. When he crossed the broken bridge and fell into the pond, he smiled. When he got an answer right, he smiled. When he talked, he smiled. When he walked down the halls, he smiled. When they called him names, he smiled. When they scattered his papers on the floor, he smiled. When they dumped his head in the toilet, he smiled. When they beat him up and drew his blood, he brushed it off... and smiled.

It was as if he had the incapability to frown and let the world down. He didn't want to let them know when they beat him. And honestly, they never did. Because it took strength to smile when the entire world was weeping.

And ignorance didn't help. It was bliss, but it didn't help. Optimism was great, but it was never helpful. It never came to his aid. It was never his band-aid or his fire or his shade. It was only his belief that he was alright. Because the sense of bliss was enough. It was enough of a sign that he was happy. But it was never a sign that he would survive. Only a belief. But beliefs weren't always right. He never knew that each smile was a knife stabbed in his heart. He never knew that it was alright to cry sometimes.

In sweet memory of: the boy who died blissfully.

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