The day the incident at Dorney Park happened, I was happy, cheerful, on top of the world. And then my shit got stolen….
The day of the mugging, I was in unusually good spirits. I was dressed in a cute outfit that only cost six bucks, I was looking forward to my night, I was happily chatting on my brand new iPhone, oblivious. Painfully oblivious. I don’t get that oblivious anymore. I don’t get that happy anymore.
Happy is dangerous. Clearly I’m not supposed to be happy. When I allow myself to be happy, bad things happen, and I am punished. If that’s not an argument to be gloomy and pessimistic, I don’t know what is.