The Secret To Happiness.

It really didn't take me long to write this one.  I really loved the topic. After all, it practically begged for one of my weird, fragmented, present-tense stories.

Today she decides to write a list. On the right of the page she will write all the things that make her happy, and on the left everything that makes her unhappy.
She thinks for a moment, then writes “Sunny Days” on the right of the paper. And stops.
Tears roll down her cheeks as the left side fills up, spilling over into the right column and onto the other side of the page.

Today he turns on the television, and stares dumbly at the screen. He flicks through the channels, not really paying any attention to anything.
He stays there the whole day.

Today she doesn't get out of bed, just listens to the sounds of her parents shouting at each other downstairs. Reaching for the knife on her bedside table, she cuts into the skin on her arm. A silent symbol of rebellion.

Today he ties off the upper part of his arm, needle in hand. With a faint sigh, he injects himself with the drug. Then everything's great again, and he laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

Today she wanders through the mall again, looking for the next fantastic bargain. The next item that will soon end up in the closet, with all the others. All those shiny new things that she knows she doesn't need.

Today he reaches for yet another box of chocolates, throwing the wrapper of the last one into the overflowing bin. Shovelling them into his mouth three at a time, he gazes into nothing.

Today she sits in the park, in her fashionable clothing, and her hair done just so. And for no particular reason, she starts to sob into her hands. It begins to rain, and she just sits there, clothes soaked and hair completely ruined, crying.

Today he buys the lotto ticket that he is so sure will win this time. He sits hunched before the telly, ticket held tight in his fists.

Today she thinks.“I don't know what the secret to happiness is,” she writes “But I know what it is not. It is not what this culture is turning us into. It is not this way of life. It is not the next drug fix, it is not the next fantastic buy, it is not the next box of chocolates. If there is indeed a secret, we forgot it long ago.”