"Jane, why are you even smiling instead of fighting this stupid guy?" Georgia pushed my arm, glaring angrily at the young guy in front of us.
I kept on smiling, not because I had nothing to say, or because I was scared of the man. I was quiet because I felt it was the right response to give to the man who had began to call me names simply because I politely refused to give him my number.
Georgia was furious at my calmness, and she took it out on the man.
"How dare you talk to her like that?" She yelled at him.
I saw that the argument might cause further problems, so I took her by the arm, and dragged her away from him.
"Jane, are you crazy? What is wrong with you! How could you be so calm in a time like this?"
"Would you have preferred that I fight a man out in the streets?" I asked her calmly.
"That is way better than doing nothing. Why the heck did you smile at his insults?
To stop myself from doing something stupid. I replied in my head
As we went back home, Georgia kept nagging.
"You do this all the time. You laugh when you're supposed to cry and vent, and you remain calm when you're supposed to react. Don't you know that people might not take you seriously because of this?"
I didn't speak another word. She was right. At home and at school, I was known to be quiet when things get tough. I'd rather laugh than cry when I'm hurt, and because of this, my friends thought I was mentally unstable. One of them even suggested that I see a doctor because she felt I was maybe a neurodivergent. But they did not understand that I had chosen to be this way after a long hard lesson from life experiences. Because of the things I had seen and experienced while growing up, I chose quietness instead of trouble.
Back when I used to let my emotions control my actions, I had hurt my half-sister because she was mean to me. That incident thought me a lot, and I promised myself never to let my emotions take over me. Most times I imagine that things could've turned out different if I hadn't given in to the anger that had been building up inside me. Maybe if I had laughed it off, I wouldn't have gone that far, and things wouldn't have turned sour. We were lucky that she survived the ordeal, but I never forgave myself for my actions.
But my calmness when the water rise didn't make me a pushover. No matter how bad the situation could be, I'd always find a better way to fix the problem instead of breaking down, or raging. All my friends especially Georgia, didn't like this. They could never understand why I chose to live like this until I lost my dad, and because of how calm I seemed, they concluded that I was mentally ill.
After my dad passed, I masked the pain with laughter. I went to class, and seemed normal, and I was still very good at my academics.
"Jane, shouldn't you visit a medical center?" Evelyn, one of my friends asked me.
"Why should I do that?" I asked her.
She hesitated to speak, but Georgia stepped in.
"Jane, we are worried about you. Why do you keep acting like you're okay when you're not even supposed to be okay? Why do you have to hold back your feelings even after you've lost your dad? We've not even see you shed a tear for once."
"So you'd rather I cry all day?" I asked her.
"No one said you should cry all day, but it's okay not to be okay." She replied.
"So what makes you think I am okay?" They were quiet to the question, because they obviously had no response to give.
They all thought I was good, but they had no way of knowing that I was hurting too. I was sad, I was in pain and I was angry at the universe, but I didn't let my emotions take over me because I knew nothing good would come out from it. They were genuinely worried about me, but they didn't know that my laughter wasn't joy, and my calmness wasn't fear. It was my defense against the pain. Instead of breaking down, my body chose laughter over collapse. Laughing was my shield, because letting out my pain would only cause more pain.
I had long learned that panic never helped a problem, being strong did. And because of the way I chose to handle my issues, people misunderstood and felt that maybe I was a crazy person, and not once did I even try to explain otherwise, because I felt it wasn't necessary. But my friends were here, worried and scared for me, and I decided that it would be best I opened up to them.
"I'm glad you both care this much for me, but I'm not crazy and I'm not unstable. The only reason I've been able to stay sane is because I've not let my emotions control my actions. Of course I'm sad, and angry and in pains, but I can't succumb to that. That's the only way I can truly keep my sanity."
That day, we hugged and cried together. They finally understood that my laughter wasn't madness, and my calmness when things were tough wasn't weakness. Instead they were my strength and the survival means I had devised to cope through life struggles perfectly.
