You Are Allowed To Want Stupid Happy Things
You say it half joking, half bitter
“I am built for the fight
” That you only trust songs that sound like an argument with God and movies that end in night
You talk like wanting simple joy is some kind of betrayal of the shit you have seen
Like craving a cheesy picnic disrespects every scared kid that crawled through mean.
But then you light up when someone’s dog waddles past in a tiny raincoat
when kids laugh too hard at a stupid balloon
You keep rewatching that one movie where nothing terrible happens
just friends making pancakes under the moon
You hide your crush on dumb pop songs under playlists labeled ironic
deny how hard your heart leans toward soft
Pretend you are above all that happy crap while secretly saving videos of old couples dancing slow in lofts.
You survived by expecting the worst
by assuming every good thing had a trapdoor and a bill
So now when something gentle appears
your first instinct is to side-eye it, push it away
call it still
But the part of you that still wants birthday candles and forehead kisses keeps fighting against the will.
You are allowed to want stupid happy things
like matching mugs in a kitchen that feels safe
Like inside jokes that last for years
like someone texting home safe every single day
Like sunsets that make you pull over just to stare
like soft sheets
like dumb little hearts drawn on your takeout case
You are allowed to want stupid happy things and still be the beast who lived through hell with that same face.
You imagine telling someone “I want flowers sometimes
not as an apology for pain
just because they are pretty and smell like stay
” Then you cringe at yourself, call it corny
call it needy
sip your drink and throw the fantasy away
You picture a Sunday morning with no emergencies
just coffee, cartoons
warm bodies and nobody raising their voice
It feels so far from your normal that you treat it like sci-fi
not like an actual possible choice.
Listen, wanting gentleness does not erase your edge
does not turn you into a soft-focus greeting card on a shelf
It means the part of you that still believes in comfort survived the onslaught
refused to evacuate your self, That is not weakness
that is rebellion in its quiet way.
You are allowed to want stupid happy things
like someone who remembers your favorite candy without a note
Like dance parties in the kitchen at midnight
socks sliding on cheap linoleum while soup burns on the stove
Like road trips with too much junk food and playlists that swing from metal to old love songs in one throat
You are allowed to want stupid happy things without cross-examining every hope you float.
One day you might actually get some of it
not all at once
not in a perfect montage with all the strings
Just in bits, a friend who always turns up
a lover who listens, a day off with small bright rings
You will sit there in the middle of it
waiting for the punchline
for the floor to give way under the swing
Then realize sometimes a good moment is just a good moment
not a setup, not a sting.
You are allowed to want stupid happy things
and you do not have to earn them by bleeding first in some costly test
You can be haunted and hopeful
fucked up and still craving the kind of soft that lets your shoulders rest
You are not betraying your scars when you reach for joy
you are honoring the part of you that never fully left the nest
You are allowed to want stupid happy things
and one of these days you are going to let some of them sit in your chest.
Next time you catch yourself trash talking your own hope for something small and bright
Whisper this to whatever cynical ghost lives in your ribs
“I lived through enough horror
I am allowed my silly dreams
they can fucking stay in my head.”