She's too happy.

Everyone knows there shouldn't be a limit on happiness. There isn't, not even to me, and I've felt as though I'd reached the limits, at points.

But that's only true happiness. That isn't the type I'm seeing, now. I know she's never this happy unless--

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes." She laughs like this is a joke.

"Seriously?"

"Not seriously...just a little."

I go blind. The dining room is covered in a fog, and I can't help but notice how beautiful the Christmas tree looks, with the lights glowing, all kind of becoming one big mess of color. Like shiny wrapping paper.

And then I'm quiet, staring at the ground, hoping for her to just...magically sober up. Thinking about how much I hate this. How little she knows.

"Are you sad?"

"Why do you ask?"

She sits in a stupor, trying to pinpoint a reason. "I dunno."

I don't respond.

Yes, I'm sad. I'm disappointed that you decided to get drunk on the night we open presents. You're the reason I put down my camera. You. You're the reason my eyes were trained on the ground, you're the reason I don't cry anymore when I'm upset.

I know it does nothing.

My cold is taking me over...I have to get off.

Mine yelled at me.
A lot. AFTER I posted.

We're not unlucky. The inherit unfair-ness is pretty well spread. Don't worry.

:D
» middaymoon on 2007-12-25 12:21:10

How sensable of you.
» middaymoon on 2007-12-25 09:44:58

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