Smile Like You Mean It.

Lately, for no particular reason, I've caught myself out. I've been getting on with whatever task I'd decided needed to be done, then for a moment, stopped. Interrupted myself, as it were. Looked up, caught my reflection in a mirror, or a car window, or a spoon, and realised I was doing it again. Smiling. No, scratch that, grinning. Maybe just because it was sunny, or because I'd got out on the right side of bed, or simply because I received a text that gave me a reason to be happy. No one close to me would admit it out loud, but I've got the tendency to be a miserable, pessimistic bitch when it suits me, or sometimes when it doesn't. It's not intentional. I tell myself I'm a realist, but really I'm not. I'm a wary optimist, with a hint of naivety and a few spoonfuls of sweet enthusiasm. I like to be happy. You're thinking, who doesn't, right? Well, this for me, is quite an achievement. I'm not saying I spend the majority of my waking hours with a down-turned facial expression, as this isn't true, but when I'm happy, you'll know about it. I flash an over-sized grin, I even walk with a spring in my step, and I'm just altogether a better, more upbeat person when I'm wearing my best smile. It seems like it's my best accessory lately, and I secretly think I know the reason. I guess I have to be careful. Smiles fade as quickly as they appear. Maybe this one will last. I hope.

"Only the insane equate pain with success."