MiSSareY• Show poetry

- the art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things -





        the smell of night-time.

                               
               splitting my fingernails.
                   

                                                     walking on wet grass in socks.
    eating melted freddos.

                                                                             squirming in flannalette sheets.


                               watching robin hood
                               and the sword in the stone
                               and atlantis.

                                                              burping coke out my nose.
       

         stretching that first stretch when you wake up. 



                                                                            playing computer games vicariously.



                                                ripping velcro.

                                                                 listening to languages that are not my own.



  receiving invitations.


       having enough nail to 'bite your nails'.
                                     

                                                             sitting like a cat.
                             
              dancing alone.        
                                                             singing in the car.
                       

                                                             jiggling my leg.
   
    counting coins.  
             tapping my hips.
                    smiling at nice strangers.



                                   blowing eyelash-wishes.

 
   striding through an empty house.

                                                                                                           being at home.

  

                       biting through chewing-gum.




                                                   salty lips after the beach.

                                     T.V's company.



        afternoon coffees.

 watching a leaf fall from a tree.


                               beauty in the breakdown.


                                                                                               chewing up some good ole plastic.
                                  letters from old friends.


                  making noise as i walk.


                     
                      the slow realisation of getting pins and needles.

                                                                                making YOU laugh.

                                              pathetic insult wars.


              sniffling in a silent room. 








                                                                                flaring streetlights seen through teary eyes.

                              objects chasing the wind.





           thinking about collarbones.



                                                                  the smell of imperial leather soap.


                   eating clouds until my fingers are permanently red.

     seeing diagonal rubbish bins.


                         falling in my sleep.







          finding someone.




I hope that you don't come to any conclusions that I am unhappy or that I've had it 'hard'.
Because you would be completely wrong.
I know that my life is utterly perfect.
I love the life I have. I love existing. I love every breath I take.
I am the happiest person I have ever been. If my life got any better,
I would feel insane guilt. I do not deserve to feel that happy.
And sure, I complain a lot, but I am so grateful for everything I have.

I have the most awesome friends.
Seriously.
Nobody I know has friends who are as wicked and sweet and hilarious as mine.
You have every right to be jealous.

I have attended schools where I have been able to be myself,
and as much homework that I don't do, I have learnt some freaking amazing stuff.

I have a family who care about me too much.
You cannot ever put a price on that, and I do not know where I would be without them.

I have like, maybe three insecurities, total.
That's a record, and I am planning to get rid of them, because who wants to be insecure?
Where is that going to get you?
Cockiness on the other hand.....

I have parents who give me what I ask for.
I think that's called being spoilt, but hey, I like it.

I have so much chocolate it is somewhat absurd.
I don't even know why I need it anymore, because I am crazy enough without sugar.

I have a boy who loves me far beyond my own comprehension.
I love him too, which I think is pretty awesome in itself.




Jealous, much?



                                                                                                   -D.R.J-