Member-only story
Happier Days Are What We Savor
Prose Poetry
The world’s falling apart, but you wouldn’t know it from the way we laugh and laugh each night.
In this place — this safe space — we can be whatever we need to be. Rules, laws, restrictions — all of them are just hearsay in a world we’ve concocted ourselves. We are the king and queen, no exception, until we step outside that door and consider ourselves citizens.
It’s easier to be happy in our own little bubble where the world outside can’t interfere.
Off goes the news because we don’t need to hear it today.
Don’t want to cook? Here come the take-out menus.
Want to go to bed early? We can, we will, and maybe we must.
Our dreams while we sleep are our own, and they can’t those away from us.
Politicians can spread the word about all the calamities caused by the other side, but we can’t bring ourselves to care. Why should we when the people in charge can’t even help us make better lives for ourselves?
On and on and on go the claims of doomsday. The dystopia has been here long enough. It didn’t just happen. We all let it happen.
And now we each exist in our own little worlds where there’s no room for pain or strife or worry.
