The obsession to always be happy has painted these ideals that have built an unhappiness, making me forget the happiness to start. Like that sentence. So complicated you stop caring. Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook; we all do it, sell the fake happy versions of our life. It's not all fake though. That picture of you at the beach with your friends was truly a fun time. But you want likes, so you have to throw a filter on it. Oh and that piece of trash on the ground ruins the aesthetic, so you gotta crop that out. And oh my god is that a pimple, no Instagram is not the place for pimples. One app later, and pimples what are those? Those things in before pictures during proactive commercials? Think of a caption relatable enough to make people like you, and perfect, time to post! "Wait don't post it now" your friend tells you. This is a bad time to post and no one will like it. "Post it at 3:32 tomorrow, yeah you'll get the most likes then." It doesn't stop there though. You're applying for an internship and you have to submit a resume. A resume: an exaggerated list of the positive things you have contributed to society, making you worthy enough to pour coffee for important people, so one day you will be lucky enough to add that on to that resume. And then you will sell that resume to another taker and another. And soon enough you're looking at someone else's resumes deciding if they are good enough to get you your non-fat skinny cappuccino with one pump of french vanilla, 1 splenda, and a dash of cinnamon at a nice 122 degrees fahrenheit. Hollow and powerful in your private office at your desk, do you ever wonder when you get to quit pretending it's okay to not be okay because filters are fake, likes are meaningless, and resumes are an illusion. The obsession to always be happy has painted these ideals that have built an unhappiness, making me forget the happiness to start.