More Happy Than Not

by Adam Silvera

I trace the smiling scar, left to right and right to left, happy to have it as a reminder not to be such a dumbass again.

Genevieve saw something in me, the life of someone she wanted to lose herself in, and not someone whose life she wanted to see thrown away.

She pulls away—and then I see why: she’s holding out her palm as a landing place for a firefly. It’s easy to forget it’s there when it’s not glowing, until all of a sudden it comes back and surprises you; it reminds me of grief.

I fake-smile because everyone wants happiness for me as much as I want it for myself.

I wish my existence were as simple as being set on fire and exploding in the sky.

From the shapes cast by the green paper lantern, you would never know that there were two boys sitting closely to one another trying to find themselves. You would only see shadows hugging, indiscriminate.

the best liars are the ones who fool you by claiming they never lie at all.

Memories: some can be sucker punching, others carry you forward; some stay with you forever, others you forget on your own. You can’t really know which ones you’ll survive if you don’t stay on the battlefield, bad times shooting at you like bullets. But if you’re lucky, you’ll have plenty of good times to shield you.

The boy with no direction taught me something unforgettable: happiness comes again if you let it.

Sometimes pain is so unmanageable that the idea of spending another day with it seems impossible. Other times pain acts as a compass to help you get through the messier tunnels of growing up. But the pain can only help you find happiness if you can remember it.