“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!”

She heard that a lot, from mostly anyone that approached her. She carried a smile for everyone around her and spread laughter like a contagious disease. Her book in one hand, coffee in the other, she was confident. She was the happiest person in the world, after all.

She goes from class to class, conversing and catching up with all of her friends. She had a lot of those, and they smiled with her; because how could you possibly not? She helped those that were in need of it, and when she asked you how you were doing, she genuinely cared.

After a long day, she parts from her dearest school personality, and returns home. Her room is a mess. Bed is barely made, and her closet is piled with dirty clothes and blankets. She sets her book down, and kicks off her shoes.

Her bed was the hardest part. She stares longingly at the covers, wishing she could curl up under them and pass out. “Just a few more hours. Then you can sleep.” She says to herself. “Keep going.”

“If you’re not going to tell us what’s wrong, then go upstairs. And clean your room while you’re at it. You used to do so well.” Her parents would say these things to her, and she would never reply. She knew they didn’t understand, but neither did anyone else. The happiest person in the world was alone in the world.

Hours pass. She lays on her unmade bed, writing and peering out the window. The night falls, and the happiest person in the world is eager for the first time that day. The moon was coming.

She took most appreciation for the little gifts in life. The gifts that nobody ever cherished because they didn’t come in a vibrant wrapping paper, or a card that talks. She stares at the moon until she determines it’s phase.

“You didn’t do anything today.” She says aloud to herself in the shower. The happiest person in the world would punish herself, and then the tears would flow like a river after a storm. The happiest person in the world was the most disciplining to herself. She was her own enemy.

The morning comes, and she groans at the sounds of footsteps roaming the household hallways. The happiest person in the world was drained.

She got out of bad at the last second possible, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She closed her eyes and sighed, a part of her thinking that if she waited long enough, she would open them, and the day would be over.

After getting dressed, she grabs her book and slips on her shoes. Downstairs, the coffee pot is still full a bit, just enough for her cup. Her backpack is then thrown over her shoulder, and she’s ready. Or so it seems.

“Have a good day.” Her mother says as she gets out of the car. The first forced smile of the day is always the hardest, but if she could do that, she could do anything. The happiest person in the world was hardworking.

“Hey!” She had just walked in, and her friends had surrounded her with smiles and greetings. Just a few more hours, and she could go home. She held on to that and reminded herself of it consistently. “You did it yesterday, and you’ll do it tomorrow. So do it today.” She mumbles to herself.

What people didn’t realize is, they in fact hadn’t just met the happiest person in the world. They had met just another person. Maybe even an actress. The happiest person in the world was not happy. Not at all.