Faking happiness

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I love my relatives (grandmothers and such). I really do. But should I tell them that every five minutes? True, I haven’t been home for three months, due to my studying hundreds of miles away. You could say I’ve missed a lot. When truth is, I hear the same old stories again, and again, and again. And I’m faking interest for the sake of everyone’s happiness.

And with all those useless presents I received recently, I found myself faking emotions I’ve never even experienced before. Don’t get me wrong, I love presents, no matter what’s under the wrapping. The thought is important. But honestly, I’m tired of answering questions such as: Do you like it? Tell me you like it, will you? How much do
you like it? Do you like it a lot?

Even if ‘it’ were actually bloody socks,  in how many ways could I possibly express my gratitude? Should I write an essay how fantastically wonderful these socks are, and then read it to my grandmother with a smile? How wide should it be so as to look legit?

I can’t wait for the holidays to be over. Cause frankly, I’m sick of faking smiles and interest, when most of my friends fake orgasms.

 

 

 

M. Stefanova, 27 December 2012

 

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