Fuck.

You know what's insane?
I need to spit you a conversation that I had with the girl I babysit today.
Me: /staring blankly off into space/
Her: Laugh.
Me: Hm?
Her: Is it hard to make you laugh?
Me: Generally. Well, actually, it depends on the humor.
Her: Would you say you're a happy person or a sad person?
Me: ...
Her: Avery?
Me: I guess a sad person?
Her: Well, you need to be a happy person. So, laugh!
Me: It's not that easy to fix...
Her: Why can't it be?
Me: Because sometimes life won't let you be happy.
Her: Who cares about that? If you're sad, just let go. It's Halloween! You're not allowed to be sad! What can I do to make you not be sad?
Me: Just eat.
Her: Nope. I'm going on a hunger strike until you're happy again.
Me: Then you might as well starve.
I think it is fucking insane that the first person to actually and seemingly genuinely care about my happiness is a 3rd grader I babysit three times a week. Everyone else I know will just accept "I'm fine," or "It's whatever," as an acceptable answer. And it's true that I don't want to talk about it with my friends but, Jesus, get me a fucking therapist before I actually end up killing someone.