Dear Diary: I want to be happy

Dear Diary,

I forgot how to be happy.

I tried smiling.

It felt stiff.

I tried laughing.

It felt fake.

So, I tried crying.

It got cold.

So I stopped.

I don't know

How to be happy.

I don't understand

How other people seem to be doing it so well.

I do not have a sad backstory.

I do not have a devastating childhood.

I do not have cruel parents.

I just felt empty.

As if I am going through

the motions of someone else's life.

As if up high there is a master puppeteer

controlling my movements.

I even doubted whether my thoughts are my own

or if it was forced upon me somehow.

Is it perhaps simply apathy?

Nevermind.

If we don't know something, we can learn.

So, I opened a book: How to be happy.

The book said: Happiness are small moments in life.

The book said: Be grateful for what you have.

The book said: It is the lows that makes you appreciate the highs in life.

Took notes.

Nodded my agreements.

All understood.

So the next day,

I stared at the sun.

I texted my loved ones.

I read a beautiful book.

I walked out to fine food.

But, dear Diary, I do wonder.

Why, I can't feel.

Perhaps, my heart is sick.

Perhaps, I just can't.

But you see, my dear Diary

I still hope to be happy.

I wonder, if that is good enough.