Chapter One
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t happy… I don’t say this to sound conceited, it’s just the way my people are since my earliest memory.
Every day like clockwork I’d wake up and find myself with a smile on my face, going through the motions of my life as if on a permanent loop blissfully unaware of how empty my rooted happiness was or how futile my purpose was at this point.
Until one day, on my way to work I found myself waiting for my train at the local Muni station, like I always do, when suddenly a young woman bumped into me out of nowhere. As she pushed past a paper fell to the ground from her backpack and I instinctively went to hand it back to her until I realized she had continued her path running in the opposite direction.
Why was she running? I thought. No one runs anywhere any more, there is no need, and what was she wearing?
I continued to stare in her direction intrigued by her movement until I realized I now was becoming the distraction in everyone’s path to work and began to go on my way thinking how strange this instance was. Still holding that single paper in my hand unaware yet of its significance in my life.
It wasn’t until I was sitting on the train, in my regular seat, that I realized I was gripping on to that very paper. Like a shock to my senses, I felt that curiosity spark inside me. I don’t remember ever being this curious before…
I uncrumpled the paper to find a single sentence written plainly in the middle of the otherwise blank piece.
Why are you so happy?
Why are you so happy? I laughed to myself as I read such a simple question thinking how odd of a thing to just carry around, until it hit as I sat there frozen in fear with the predominant smile on my face quickly fading as I found I had no answer. Why am I, so happy?
All I could muster for an answer is just that everyone just was happy. Since the dark days when my parents had passed over thirty years ago, I felt as if I might have been in this very moment the only person in my society who had questioned this. Well, except for that girl... Who was she? Was she happy?
During the dark days our people found so many stresses in their daily life, so much pain, so much unnecessary sadness blanketed our society or so I remember from the propaganda slogans plastered all over our city when I was a kid...
So funny I had not recalled that memory until now…
It sounds stupid I’m sure but before this piece of paper. This crumpled up piece of paper that could have easily been ignored and discarded at the perfectly accessible waste bin next to every train entrance, I never found myself questioning my life… questioning this society. It just wasn’t something that was done.
Or at least from my experience it wasn’t something that was discussed. Everyone was just happy the way they were. It never seemed odd to me really because it was our standard of normal. Until this stupid piece of paper ruined my life.
Made me an outsider, made me question everything that I was perfectly happy with moments ago. I felt a strange surge through my body like a warmth running through me that wasn’t welcome and a narrowing of my sight as I stared blankly at the ground until I realized what I was doing with my hands clenched and my face down towards the floor. It wasn’t until I lifted my head that I noticed my strange nature had also surprised the people around me with the many faces of spectators looking at me in confusion then looking at a poster on the train above my head that I never really noticed before.
It read:
Happiness is a standard. If you are unhappy, we are here to help. With a number following the message.
Why had I never noticed this before?
My whole life I never felt this way or had been looked at so questioningly as If I am sick.
You can’t be sick.
Why did this frighten me so much? I thought to myself... If I was sick, I could get help…That’s what they taught us.
Like a battle in my head, I fought the idea of whether I should tell someone, but fear overpowered me. I sat there and found myself faking a smile in response to their stares and like clockwork they smiled back and went back to what they had been doing previously. I felt sick, fake. Hidden. Behind this now pretend façade.
I spent the rest of my trip to work with a smile on my face and a busy mind trying to understand, trying to force out this confusion hoping it would pass, still holding the piece of paper that so taunted my reality.
As I looked around, I kept finding myself wondering if they were all happy too. Why are they so happy?
Why is this a bad thing? My subconscious tried to ask me… but it was so strange now after I had been asked why I was happy. I now found that since I did not have an answer to this question that my mind tried to find the most logical step forward. That maybe if I looked at others, or asked them, I might find an answer. The right answer… the needed answer.
No, that’s too much of a risk.
And then I thought… What if they aren’t happy?
I mean they had to be right? They were all smiling.
I’m not happy and I’m smiling.
I’m not happy… Like a shock wave to my reality, it hit me. I never meant to think such a horrid thought… not happy… This cannot be true. That would mean I am sick.
You are not sick.
But I must be…
You can’t be sick.
It felt as if I was handed a key and then a door for that key appeared that I never knew was there and as I went to open the door the key disappeared from my hand, yet the door remained. Locked, taunting me, begging me to open it.
What was on the other side? Why am I on this side of it? Which side was free?
I tried my best to be reasonable, to get myself to stop questioning the purpose of my happiness because it only brought me sorrow not having an answer, but once the question is asked it becomes impossible to forget, especially such an intriguing one…and once you begin to look for something you notice it everywhere. Moments in your everyday life that make you question. That force you to remember the mystery hidden inside… Why am I happy?
Jeez I do not remember this commute being so long… and so boring.
Michaila Oberhoffer was born and raised in the foggy San Francisco Bay area, a place she is still happy to call home. Satisfied with a great meal, a refreshing drink and a bit of nature, Michaila wishes to live life simply doing what she loves. A lover of all things philosophy and science, she believes that being human isn't about being intelligent enough to know but wise enough to question. She can easily be found sitting at a patio table at a coffee shop or at a local brewery, trying very hard to allow the thoughts in her head to become coherent enough to publish, settling for the comforts of humor and speculation. THE ROOT OF JOHN'S HAPPINESS is her debut novel.
ten more years
remember when your parents
told you they were staying
together for the sake of the
children
it was all a lie
they hated you and only
stayed together for another
decade because the taxes
were easier to do
ten more years of do
what your father says
ten more years of
anger and despair
ten more years of talking
yourself down from the
roof every other night
you still are haunted
by those ten years
eventually, time will
run out on all of us
not everyone gets
the bliss of a sunset
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
another sign of getting older
here comes a
sexy woman
in glasses
my knees
just got
weak
is it love
or fucking
arthritis
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
someone will find the happy out there
i was told i never write happy poems
some impossible challenges should
just be let go
but no
i have to do this
so, there's this little boy
watching the rain
his father tells him
those are tears from
god
and the little boy asks
why is god crying
and the father tells the
little boy it is because
of all the times he lets
down his mother
and the little boy, just
old enough to know his
father is probably full
of shit
says maybe it is because
of all the times you have
let her down and she knows
she could have done much
better
after taking his beating, the
little boy learned a lasting
knowledge about the truth...
it hurts
--------------------------------------------------------------
with all i have to give
hot water racing
down your back
i can feel your breath
in my soul
it feels like i have
waited forever to
taste you
to grace your lips with
all i have to give
be it this night or all
the nights we have left
you possess the only
arms i ever felt safe
within
i could promise you
the moon but i'd rather
go hand in hand shooting
the stars
walk across a bridge and
jump together
to see how much love
can let us fly
i want to show the muse
all that she has inspired
me to do
one day, hopefully
we'll meet in some
random city like it
was meant to be
----------------------------------------------------------
chasing dark secrets
the muse is in paradise
trying to enjoy life a
little bit more
i'm off chasing dark
secrets
wondering if it is only
my tail or a tale worth
telling
our love grows stronger
and i long for the day
where there is a lonely
beach and two old souls
enjoying a drink
i know the chances
are slim
but i refuse to believe
the impossible can't
happen
of course, the deeper
the longing the larger
the price to pay in
sorrow and madness
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know where the bodies are buried. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy and The Asylum Floor. He will have a joint book coming out this summer with C. Renee Kiser. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
A message to my poem
Is this fair?
You leave me with the pale whiteness of my paper
like an orphan stretching out his hand in the void
waiting for a moment of kindness,
Is this fair?
I open the door of my broken heart to celebrate the pride of your words
And you, in vain, give me an indifferent look
Pure silence, around me now
Where did you get your hardness?
I'm like the whisper of a silk glove.
I fall asleep on a velvet sheet waiting for you
I'm not a word hunter
to make traps for you.
No dice player
to collect the glow of your body from a lost throw.
I am a poet,
I am born from a wing of a word
and drowning deeply in the emptiness of the paper.
Nothing can be more cruel than your absence now.
Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq.
She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language. She is a 2018 Pulitzer Prize Nominee and a 2019 Pushcart Prize Nominee.
Member of International Writers and Artists Association.
Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020
Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021)
One of the Women of Excellence selection committees 2023
Winner of Women in the Arts award 2023
Member of Whos’ Who in America 2023
SAHITTO AWARD, JUDGING PANEL 2023
Cultural Ambassador - Iraq, USA
Email : d.fh88@yahoo.com
My Love...
Your love is a pattern in my heart,
I found happiness in your presence.
"Love" - said my lady who put it to the tune,
Days without your words - that's enough!
I couldn't believe the separation
Your name is hidden in my sleepy thoughts.
From your heart - when it comes to my heart,
I couldn't find the courage to look.
Dear looks in this broken heart,
Sweet dreams are now a passion.
Without you, how hard it is to live!
The heart tells you, - nothing else!
✍
Makhzuna HABIBOVA
Student of Gulistan State University
The Power of Motivation
Motivation is the driving force behind our actions, decisions, and goals. It is the spark that ignites our desire to achieve and the fuel that keeps us moving forward, even in the face of challenges and setbacks. Understanding the importance of motivation can help us harness its power to reach our full potential.
At its core, motivation is about finding a reason to act. This reason can be intrinsic, coming from within ourselves, such as a personal passion or a sense of accomplishment. It can also be extrinsic, driven by external factors like rewards, recognition, or the desire to avoid negative consequences. Both types of motivation are valuable, and often, they work together to push us towards our goals.
One of the key components of effective motivation is setting clear, achievable goals. When we know what we want to achieve, we can focus our efforts and create a roadmap to get there. Goals provide direction and purpose, making it easier to stay motivated over the long term. Additionally, breaking larger goals into smaller, manageable tasks can help maintain a sense of progress and prevent feeling overwhelmed.
Another important aspect of motivation is maintaining a positive mindset. Believing in our abilities and staying optimistic can significantly impact our motivation levels. Positive thinking can enhance our resilience, making it easier to bounce back from failures and continue pursuing our goals. Surrounding ourselves with supportive and encouraging people can also boost our motivation, as they can provide the encouragement and feedback we need to stay on track.
Moreover, understanding what motivates us personally is crucial. Everyone is different, and what works for one person may not work for another. Experimenting with different strategies, such as setting rewards, creating a motivating environment, or finding inspiration in others, can help identify what drives us best.
In conclusion, motivation is a powerful tool that can propel us towards success. By setting clear goals, maintaining a positive mindset, and understanding our unique motivators, we can harness this force to achieve our dreams and aspirations.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM ILHOM QIZI
Dear ruiner of all,
Indeed, in destruction lies your own pleasure,
Amidst sorrow and sadness, springs up your own joy,
Your success sight, is to watch other success dimming.
Devil, I know your laughter is ignited, when a tranquil heart turns violent,
Your smile is sparked, when a blossomed flower withers,
Your solace reigns, where lovebirds suddenly be at daggers drawn.
Devil, I know the contentment you crave, is to put humankind in grief.
Surely, I know in miles you have ruined,
Leaving every single stage of this journey scathed and shattered,
Incessantly stabbing the innocent flesh of this vulnerable heart,
Mercilessly carving there the holes of bitterness,
Heartlessly disposing of this injured heart to the abyss of sorrowful thoughts.
But, Devil, do not yet, yell of conquest!
For the end, still vague to foresee the outcome,
For my defeat now, can transition to triumph,
That my wound would meet healing in the end,
And my feebleness would wear the garment of mightiness.
Devil, do not ever laugh yet!
For even in your laughter, is no tone of lastingness.
Dear Devil,
Remember, if you do not laugh last, you do not laugh best.
