A Quiet Sort Of Joy.

Words are never completely true, so please don’t believe this story I am about to tell you.

 She was the kind of girl who wore her soul just beyond her eyelids, like the ones who lift their face to the sky, eyes closed, and taste life that way. Life was forever an adventure for her, every new day, every new place an exotic new flavour that she would revel in. But the problem with this girl (A problem only in the eyes of those who could not understand.) was, unfortunately, she enjoyed alone.

 Her heart was always soaring, but none ever saw it, she never expressed the loud obnoxious laughter and voices of the other’s enjoyment. Hers was a peace and a calm and a laughter hidden just beyond her eyelids. And because her peers could not see it, they did not understand. She must be miserable, for she did not sing. She must be bored, for she did not talk. She must be sad, for she did not laugh. And, I suppose, among all the noise for enjoyment they surrounded themselves with, they missed her quiet smile, which only slightly reflected the dancing she felt inside.

 You see, sometimes the fullest hearts and the deepest joys are the ones just barely visible. Perhaps the quiet people are the ones who know best how to live.