I’m a little bit afraid to say that sometimes I’m happy. I have had so much see-sawing in the last year, too many violent swoops. It’s not that I can’t handle more, I know I can–but I want to stay happy for a minute. It’s precarious. I feel a little like I’ve had too much caffeine, except I don’t do caffeine any more, so I know it’s not that. It’s just a little internal bounce.
I don’t want to pick it apart, this giddy little feeling. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to say it, because once I say I keep saying and words start spilling everywhere and I can’t stop myself from thinking out loud. And sometimes all those words crush things. So instead I’m just whispering it a little here, giving it a tap to make sure it’s not imaginary, and then looking away with a half a smile, quickly.