She scowls and clicks her tongue, her lovely face takes a bitter turn and her eyes tells me she's disappointed. Her face recovers quickly, but her whole body screams disgust and disapproval. Only the verbal is in her control, all her other languages are screaming at the top of their lungs.

Be happy she says, stay true to yourself.

I am and I will, even when she scowls and her conversation is limited to jeer and scorn. Because no-one has ever made me happy, only staying true to myself even come close to a semblance of happiness.

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