Bliss

I am supremely and sublimely happy. There's not many people who can say that, I think. It's not happiness because everything is perfect and sunshine and roses. It's perfect because it's cool and dark outside, people are playing music (I can hear them through the window), my shirt is soft, my desk is messy, my floor is clean, I've got mascara stains below my eyes from laughing and crying at the same time. How can I be unhappy when I've got the taste of cinnamon and honey in my mouth and two pairs of sweaty black boots sitting by the door. I've got new shoelaces. I've left no work undone. I've nothing better to do. I'm wearing new socks. I've got a good song stuck in my head. I sang in the hallway before I wrote this message. I left a note on a friend's door. There's ribbons on my doorknob. Nobody can tell me I shouldn't be happy, I harassed cheerleaders today. I've got the smell of vanilla and clean laundry all around me and I'm in love. Just try and ruin my day.