The laugh
Let me tell you something. Something besides the fact that I haven’t posted a real entry for months. Something I want to say to you but I can’t, because it’s like trying to hold back a sneeze, or worse, a deep down belly laugh that threatens to come out my nose in an obscene exhaled snort, in the middle of a quiet library where everyone is concentrating very hard on their important books and papers and are waiting, just absolutely waiting for me to make a squeak of delight that they can oppress with their disapproving stares.
I’m shoulders shaking like I’m crying but I’m not, hand over my mouth, glee in the corners of my eyes but I can’t let any of it out, and it’s giving me a pain in my abdomen that I haven’t had in years. The strangest sensation to rage against is the sensation that I shouldn’t enjoy this, that I shouldn’t be laughing here, that it’s not right. But something about this scenario makes my stomach hurt more, wrinkles my upper lip, bares my teeth in some kind of forbidden joy I can’t or won’t admit to, especially not to you.
It’s novel really, this thrill I get. Everyone always reminds me about the future, the plans, the situation, the morality, and the many reasons I shouldn’t let anyone know I want to laugh. I’ve spent so much time trying to hold it in these past few weeks that I forgot that a laugh is just joy trying to get out. I’m falling now, and it’s going to get out one of these days, and I hope you’re ready for it when I burst.
