The Fundamentals of Happiness

Part 1

INTRODUCTION

Once upon a time, there's a woman named Sam, and she's very unhappy.
That opening was something.
Something I feel like mocking; something to be taken offense in, but who am I to protest? It's true anyway, that I, as a social animal was unhappy.
I'm Selena Anne Marie Bacay, also known as Sam. I'm 17 years old, and an introvert. It was the most interesting thing I could talk about myself - I'm an introvert. It's nothing spastic like - Hey, do you know I'm an introvert? I am, in case you're wondering - and then we proceeded on being friends, because introverts do find friends like that. Usually, once they saw my figure, they started wondering how I came to being. They would look at me, from head to toe, as per usual, before they roll their eyes. I'm not interesting.
My hobbies consisted of reading books in the library; looking at pictures of insects - Do you know that an average mayfly can only live as an adult for five minutes? It's true. Dolania americana has the shortest life span among them - My conversation piece. Amazing, no? However, that reaction wasn't the case among the cliques in my surrounding. They viewed it as weird; most likely because not everyone appreciated Entomology. I do, though. Insects were my biggest fascination. - Do you know that out of 1000 species of mosquito, only one of the species carried a fatal disease to human? Aedes aegypti, yeah. Dengue, yeah - it's just a silly fascination for them, but I'm passionate in it. Gosh! I must be the weirdest in your eyes now.
I'm a junior at P. V. Lucido Senior High School, and so far, the only member of the Go Home Club. Everybody was absorbed in their little clubs of interests, and it's simply impressive, but everybody's just absorbed of their own clique that there's no way in hell they would know you, unless you're famous, or infamous. My case - I'm infamous as hell. I'm the weirdest person here.
She has porcelain-like skin, and big doe eyes, but she spends most of her time in the forest, in the nook, in the cranny, and never in the castle. She's Sam. She's strange, but it isn't her problem.
She likes being strange.
Everybody suddenly closed in on me. They're looking at my very fiber, as if trying to find a justification on the storyteller's statement. Claude Marquez said that Sam liked being strange. Did I, really? As far as I could remember, there's nothing to love about me being strange.
I suddenly wanted to disappear. Everyone's just looking.
It didn't help that Claude was my partner in this project for Creative Writing. He's the school's cool guy. They liked him, but I never had the slightest idea if he returned it just as much. He's goodlooking, of course. The cool, hot guy. He's fairly muscular, and very masculine to look at. The cool, hot hunk. He's smart, too. With his body, you'd think he's part of any sport whatever here, but he's not. He's in the research society. He had a dole kindness in his face, yet he's just as mischievous when he's with his friends. He's playful, and knows how to have fun. Someone I shouldn't be associating myself.
"It's what he wrote." I shifted in my seat, giving them a tired gaze. "He's interviewed me, and that's it."
"Is there something wrong, Selena?" called Mr. Villas.
'A lot,' I should say, but then I just shook my head. "None, Mr. Villas."
Creative Writing was my favorite, don't get me wrong. It's just that Mr. Villas promoted the idea of Writing Together as a usual Friday Activity to be presented on a Saturday. It's a team game, for those who excelled in team play. I don't. Even asked Angelica, my serial bully, she'd say the same thing - Sam's not really cut for this. She had been staring at me for straight five minutes already. I'm about to think she's about to propose, but she's sighing - ultimately annoyed, as I'm just getting smaller and smaller by the minute. She's not amused. I know.
Her problem is that she's friendless; hence, the unhappiness.
She's finding a hard time to fit it; hence, the unhappiness.
She's not confident; thus she stopped trying; hence, the unhappiness.
If only she knew her worth. Would she be happy?
"May I go out, Mr. Villas?"
"Sure," said Mr. Villas, looking at me rather pitifully. "Just be here quick."
I nodded.
It was embarrassing. The type of embarrassing where everybody looked at you, searching for validation if you really felt that way. I got to wonder about it, sometimes. Am I really strange, or am I just making excuses in order not to associate with my classmates?
It's not like I picked to be like this. I'm an introvert, yes. I'm not antisocial, however. It's more of a circumstantial reaction. We're living in the Military base here in Subic, Philippines. In shorter word, we were always on the move. My father was a soldier; a Lieutenant General, actually. We were brought to different places because of his profession.
It had become an embedded thought - why would you even exert effort if it wouldn't last?
I'd love to have friends, but then, I hated losing them as well.
I spent the whole five minutes sitting on the toilet bowl, debating whether to go back or not. It's not like I'd want to witness the downward spiral of Claude's opinion of me. He's nice, but blunt. While working on the activity, he's asking a lot of strange questions involving happiness. I'd saved one of his texts, actually. - For posterity, what makes you happy? - I hadn't answered it, yet. It's a difficult question to answer, and if he were to hear my answer, I wondered what would he say? The enactment in my head was mean, so I should try to avoid it.
He would come up, holding his usual tray of food, smiling handsomely as ever. I would be looking, though. I'm like this adopted orphan, smiling equally to her new family. I was longing. Euw.
"What makes you happy, Selena?"
Oh, my God! I shivered - pleasurable shiver. He said my name.
"Umm . . ." I trailed, for mystery. "You - you make me happy!"
The smile in his face started to fall down, he was unhappy; heck, he was disgusted. He stretched his muscular arms, and threw the content of his tray to me.
"You disgusting creep!"
Delightful!
I wanted to bang my head on the wall! Why did I even think of that? Those sickly sweet smile, and the 'my only fair beau' gaze he shared. It's too much, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it. When I thought of it, though. The cynic, nihilist in my mind would suddenly change it for the worse. The worse I became so accustomed in believing.
Maybe Angelica was correct - maybe I wasn't cut for this.