A smile of happiness behind a heart of sadness

Sometimes the most difficult thing we can do is put on a smile of happiness for others in our lives. Whether it's for a monumental achievement or some personal, positive outcome of something. However, how difficult is it to smile for the world when inside there is such a conflict in ourselves? How hard can it be to really be happy for others when we ourselves are not happy. Surly, we can put on a false face and show support for our friends and loved ones. It's the simplest thing we can do, but where is the sincerity? The genuine, heartfelt joys that are returned for the good cheer and news others are willing to share with us?

As humans, we have an inert ability to constantly evaluate our own success and happiness based on others. It is unwitting bar that everyone puts to weigh our own merits for our own personal satisfaction. It is as essential as breathing, yet something that no matter how much we tend to ignore, it lingers like a bad cold sore.

Is it that most people tend to show and share success as a subconscious form of gloating? Something that we don't even notice or acknowledge? Or can it be that it's a deliberate prodding of their joys like a sinister trophy to put themselves on a pedestal of good mirth and make others feel unhappy. Who knows.

However, what about those who are not feeling so happy and proud? It is easy to share a smile and say I am happy and glad for them? Especially when there is no good joys or cheers in our own lives. How hard is it to be happy for others when in our own core being we are not happy within ourselves? Pretend - fake - down right force ourselves to give ourselves a bit of joy. A false complement and share a joy and things get better.

In short how does this wake others feel. Can we make others happy for good news when they in turn make ourselves feel low. Suck up our pride and push on? Sometimes it's easier said than done. So we just suck up our hurts of our own lives and pretend. Share a smile but in ourselves shed a tear.