Lately I've noticed a growing public concern over whether or not I am happy. I say yes, but every now and then something creeps to the surface and quite suddenly something that has nothing to do with me, (say, a pack of man-men watching football on television with a vocal volume that belongs in the actual stadium in the room next to me) will piss me off to no end and for no reason.
To me, this is probably the greatest benefit to being a deeply repressive person. Happiness is inconsequestial and meaningless. Instead of moping, I find myself in a constant state of unrest. Musical selections rarely make it through the entire track without being skipped, reading assignments can only hold me for a chapter at a time, that kind of thing.