IM HAPPY ALL THE TIME; phan

He

I stroll down the hall with a pill bottle in my hands and my other arm tracing designs and curves into the walls. The music pounds on the walls and cage of my brain and sometimes the door falls open, but it slams back shut before any of my brains can actually escape.

"Hey Dan, where's your friend?" Someone's voice creeps in my ear. "Friend? Don't have any." I roll my eyes.

Things move by fast. I'm jumping off the walls without lifting a finger. I was practically climbing and hanging from the ceiling without taking a step forward. I could just see myself upside down, no wacky mirror required.

A pair of hands slide down my sides. I try not to stand too still, but not freak out. They grip my hips and slam me against a wall. I see blood drip down my forehead. I feel the cold creep on my neck and run down my spine. I cover my bare fingertips with the red misery, and make a big print on the wall.

My head is slammed and slammed again into the drywall. I feel it running down my cheeks and almost soaks my hands. "You're an idiot, you know that?" The voice whispers down my neck.

I'm bothered. "None of it was real. STOP BEING SO HAPPY!" They scream. I attempt to make an excuse, but only out-of-key piano notes come out. They sound awful together.

"Lose your smile, lose your smile, lose your smile, lose your smile.." It repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats and doesn't stop until I grip onto everything I have left and with one breath, I feel myself entangle and fall into a bed of needles. One for every joint in my body, and two for every eye.

Piano note after piano note- they're all horrible. I look behind me, and I see myself...

Smile.

=

I get shaken by my forearms and am met with the same eyes that I had just seen hours ago? Days?

"What day is it?"

"The one after."

"Oh. Helpful."

Phil helps me sit up and hands me a bowl of cereal- half eaten. He smiles weakly and waits for me to say something, but I don't. There's about a dictionary's worth of words that I could blurt out. I only read out the questions that are in the very back of the book.

"How did you get in my house?" I narrow my eyes, and check to see if it's me or him that's not blinking.

"Your window was open. You left your earring in my car. Thought you might want it back? Maybe not. I just wanted to see you again. Maybe you didn't want to see me again? I just don't know. I had to see what you were up to. It's weird.." He trails his eyes to look around my room and take into account that he's in my room.

There's a framed poster in my room, and a few other stuff. I had always thought it was plain, but he seems to see something in everything and I think he's seeing a million dogs right in front of him because he seems dangerously interested.

"Back to the point, why are you in my room?" I set the bowl down on my bedside table.

"To remind you about that night," He places a hand closer to me on my bed. "Prom night."

"What about it?"

"Don't be like that Daniel, you know what happened prom night. I thought it was something. I felt something. It was weirdly addicting and I'm here to get it back."

"You're charming. I like your pep. You should join the cheer squad." I chuckle, and he rolls his eyes.

"I feel like it would do you a favor. Stretch out those legs, maybe tone those glutes." I start laughing, and he just looks flustered. I push him.
"You could use the extra help. You're dealing with flab. You're not going to be able to lift a pen with those arms."

He stands up which startles me, and comes over only to grip my waist and pull me up towards him. I tremble, and he knows very well what he's doing.

I take a fist full of the clothing on his collar and hold it in my hand- staring into his irises. He wants to look away, I don't. He wants to place his love stamp on me, but I would think the opposite.

I almost pull his whole shirt off by flipping him in the other direction. He falls to the floor and looks up at me daringly. "Smart." He laughs, and it's hard not to laugh as well.

It's nice we can laugh. He comes over and places on hand on my hip, the other in my brown curls.
He looks at me like I'm the most expensive and beautiful diamond ring on display in a shop.
He looks at me like I'm the sweetest and most savory wine on the whole shelf.
He makes me feel like I'm the scenery at the 5-star restaurant.
He wants me to believe I'm the most beautiful thing in the whole earth.
I want to believe him.
I don't.

I push him away, being careful not to be too harsh.
It's all too much; almost too overwhelming.
"Out of everyone in the whole world- why me?"
I see the pain erupt in his eyes,
"Out of everyone in the whole world- it has to be you."

I wince. I don't get it.
I'll never get what he sees in me.
He could tell me every morning in my ear- the same exact speech, and I would never understand.
Why is it so hard to understand. I'm unable to grasp it.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, and my chest tightens. I feel a pain flow down my left arm and through my veins. I'm waiting for them to pop unexpectedly and for this to be over.

"Don't be sorry. It's my stupid fault I don't understand." I lean against the wall.
He takes my hand and begins tracing patterns into my palm, making me feel at ease.
"Still, sorry."

"Okay. It's okay."