Trauma makes you funny. that's what my sibling always tells me,
so I guess I unwillingly traded a healthy sleep schedule,
the feeling of joy,
and the ability to love myself for a sense of humor.
which in itself is funny to me,
but probably only to me.
It's true though, I think,
when I look at comedians that I like or authors that make me laugh I can see the connection:
they've all been through hell,
it's just a matter of whether they choose to hide it or not.
we're all making a deal without knowing we're doing it,
trading away a sense of happiness and safety for something that hardly takes its place,
leaving a hollowed up shell of a person but at least they're funny,
at least we're funny.
because at the end of the day that's all I've really got going for me,
I'm not pretty,
I'm not smart,
I'm not wonderful,
I'm just funny.