II

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgtoten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books currease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.


I hate being the happy person in the group. Today, for instance, marks one of the most depressing days for me this whole year, and believe me, I've gone through a lot of those suck days.

I said hi to one of my best friends, and she replied. I answered with an emoticon showing my sadness and a "I'm depressed." She said "Dude I am waaay more depressed than you are. Why, what's up?" After I told her, she told me the same thing everyone says whenever I'm down in the dumps -- "Let's drink!"

She then told me what she was being depressed about and although, yes, her problem was FAR more colossal, I just can't understand why people don't think I can be sad, too.

Is it because I'm named Joy? That I shouldn't be anything but happy? That I COULDN'T be anything but happy? That all I have to do is show up and brighten someone's day?

That's faulty.

What if I can't brighten up my own?