I've been thinking hard about this situation :
The whole reason why a clown is there is to make people laugh and be happy. Now on one occasion, imagine that the clown has just finished doing his work for the day. The people are entertained, and they'd love to see more. But after the show is over, the poor clown goes backstage, to his dressing-room, and weeps.
He weeps because of the pressure mounting on him. He can't help reminiscing about how happy things were, and all he yearns for is someone to give him joy.
I've been thinking about this, because it pertains to me.
I seem to be able to bring joy wherever I go. Everyone can notice that I'm easily excited, always willing to smile, and when people around me smile, I believe that my job is well done. Yet, as much as I wish to bring joy into the hearts of people, I wish there'd be joy in my heart. Because everything around me has been torn apart.
You'd probably call me a crazed brat for dwelling in the past. I'm trying to get off it, but sometimes I can't help thinking about it, because mom was my universe. How do you give people something when you've lost everything ? How do you know what to hope for, when the one who gave you hope is now gone forever ?
If anyone can find a way to make a clown happy, I'd probably use it on myself.
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