[F4A] At 2AM, it's fine.

Pick out your clothes, put on that make up and plaster on another smile to go out and meet the day. It’s fine. You’ll go to work, do your job and all of it will come to pass. Then you’ll go out, talk to some friends and show them your smile to remind them that it’s fine. They won’t see past the smile, the mask covers it all and you’ll wear it with pride. You’re a well-adjusted individual, there are no words gouged into your forehead.

And you’ll keep wearing that smile, day in and day out your face will never change. That’s the trick, isn’t it? To keep on keeping on, to show the world that you’re not afraid, to prove to it that you’ve moved on and the past is stuck firmly in the past. The secret to happiness is simple. Be happy. Can’t walk alone at night so you stay home instead of going out with friends? Be happy. Pet dies? Be happy. Lose your job? Be happy. Be happy, be happy, be happy.

This isn’t just some bullshit you eat everyday because it’s what society demands, it’s the only way you know how to exist. Mind over matter, believe it hard enough and it will come true. So be happy. Every single day, ever since that day, you be happy. You don’t need to convince anyone else, once you’re happy they’ll know. It will take some time and it’s fine.

At least... at least until it’s two past midnight and you’re still covered in sweat, shaking like a leaf on the couch. The façade falls away, the mask lying broken, shattered and in tatters as you dart your eyes around in the darkness, searching for something that you know isn’t there. It’s fine. The crippling anxiety, the unending terror that grips you, as long as no one is around to see your world crumble to pieces, it’s fine. You’ll be happy come morning, because that’s what you do, that’s how you live. Reality sinks in, but it’s fine. It’s 2 in the morning and while sleep only brings with it more dread, it’s fine. Sad, loathing yourself, curling up in a sobbing ball of tears because the past refuses to let go? It’s fine.

Paint on that demeanour, greet them with a smile and be on your way, it’s fine. You’re actually happy, and you’ve done it all by yourself without any outside help, you’ve achieved happiness. Until I’m sitting down again, wracked with fear and stricken with sobs against the wall. It’s 2 o’clock again, I’m a fucking mess just because of one wrong turn, one misbegotten night, one… awful person. The hands still haunt me, but it’s fine.

It’s 2 in the morning and it’s fine.

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