Unhappy

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I'm unhappy.
But this isn't a call for attention. It's a statement of acceptance. A phrase of expression.

I may have the perfect job, a handsome salary, flexible working hours. I've got it all, don't you think? But I hate my job. And I'm unhappy.

Look at my shoes. I bought them yesterday from the shop you can only dream of buying from. Yes, they're crazy expensive but I can afford them. I had an accident the day before, I lost my two toes. I hate these shoes. They remind me I can't wear open-toed sandals anymore. I'm unhappy.

I'm always ready to hang out. My friends envy me because their parents don't allow them. Mine do, they abandoned me long ago, they don't care where I am. Staying home is lonely. It makes me unhappy.

On my good days, I paint and post photos of it on my instagram. Last time I painted flower pots and all my friends loved it. My friend texts me, inviting me over. I lie I have to be somewhere else. I'm chronically depressed. If I say that, I wouldn't have any friends. Nobody likes unhappy.

I may get a few votes, some kind words, but I don't like what I've written. It makes me unhappy. Sad has replaced unhappy and nobody uses unhappy anymore. I bet, unhappy is unhappy. Just like I am.

I told my cousin I'm unhappy. He got uncomfortable. No one likes unhappy people. They look like stagnant ponds, very few wish to sit next to. Everyone likes rivers, the sea, the rush of the water, returning them a sense of life and happiness they lost somewhere.

So this is for the unhappy. For all of us are at some point unhappy. May you do not forget, that this too is an emotion to be felt, shared and written about. Life isn't perfect, about time we start showing it.

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