Those of you who have had the honor of meeting me know that I can be a bit of a grouch. A curmudgeon. An angry-old-man-telling-the-kids-to-get-off-his-lawn type. It is a cultivated persona that is also entirely representative of me as a human being. But sometimes you can’t help but be nice. And every once in a while, it isn’t a total pain.
Being nice is difficult. At least it is for me. I don’t want to speak for the entire species, but it is a lot easier for me to acknowledge and move on with my day, than to stop and really hash out mundane feelings with another person. I realize that makes me sound incredibly self-centered, but I’m being honest.
Then some days you just wake up feeling good. You’re not even sure why, since you didn’t get much sleep the night before. But you’re in a good place. Exchanging pleasantries isn’t so difficult, you actually take an interest in the lives of others. Is this what it feels like to be a nice person?
It’s infectious. You wish you could feel this way all the time. Then you start to wonder, am I bi-polar? Am I finally hitting a manic peak after a depressive valley? But then you realize, no that’s not it. But it is weird that you’re thinking at yourself so directly. Maybe you should get checked out by a brain doctor of some sort.
Even all of the neuroses inherent to your being can’t bring down your sunny disposition when you’re having a good day. Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Or maybe today was a fluke. Either way I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.