Happy thoughts

This is an attempt to bring some colour into this rather bleak office (nothing’s more gloomy than cold concrete floors and bare pre-fab walls) to which I am currently confined. I thought it was a rather nice happy picture, and since I have been recently accused of being morbid - and was told bluntly that there is something wrong with me, as everything I post is apparently depressing. I, naturally, disagree. Not everything is morbid and depressing. But, my continual protesting only led to further aggravation and insult. It is one thing to critique someone’s work, calling it morbid – but I feel generally offended by the comment that there is something wrong with me.

What would then constitute normal writing, from a normal person? Endless lines of prose on my thoughts on rainbows and sunflowers? Long, flowing articles on cute little bunny-rabbits? I don’t like rabbits much – I caught a flesh-eating virus from my pet rabbit as a kid. I personally find this form of normal subject matter all rather insipid. Personally, I don’t think that there are that many people out there, above the age of seven, who would find it riveting stuff.

Some of the most amazing pieces of literature written by the most talented authors and poets explore the bleaker side of the human psyche, and cover morbid subject matter. These have so much appeal, because longing and suffering are universal themes. They emphasise terrible atrocities committed during wars, and in everyday life – reaching out across cultural barriers. I seriously doubt a poem about happy bunnies would have the same effect.

While I can only aspire to write such brilliant works, I find the comment that there is something wrong with me greatly offensive. If being considered normal is to write garbage, then I would rather stick to my “morbid” thoughts.