i.

"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.

"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey
bottle and say that making people
happy is my new job.

"you should get a paying job,"
you clarify, and i fill the whiskey
bottle with glitter and kiss you
until it doesn't matter anymore.

you don't need money if you're
dead.

iii.

i tell you that i'm going to leave
because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refuse to speak to me for
the rest of the night.

and here i thought i had
all of the answers.

v.

you joke about going to med school
just so you can keep me alive forever.

i joke about doing some nice deeds
so people will write kind things about
me in my obituary.

neither of us think the other
is particularly funny.

vii.


you roll over in bed and whisper,
"did you mean what you said, kel?
about making people happy?"

i pretend to be asleep so that
i don't have to tell you that the only
people that i want to make happy
are the ones i don't care about.

so that way i won't feel as
bad when i fail.