12.14

I've seen happiness work its way through a population like a disease. I've spent enough time chasing tranquility that somehow I've achieved near-invulnerability to the disastrous things that happen outside my immediate bubble. But you, "Cat Person" poet, nearly got me. I will admit that for the duration of my time reading your ungorgeous description of two people using each other I was disgusted and pushed into profound disquiet. I will admit that you got me then, and unbidden pictures of your horrific work has sprung unbidden to my mind. I will admit that the writing was excellent and evocative and I could not have done as well. But I know that sadness is as powerful a contagion as happiness, and my incessant inoculation is all that saved me. What will you say to the millions who can't remember the last time they smiled? I doubt you'll have an answer for the multitudes who don't feel happiness as an inveterate habit. You're responsible for sadness, my dear, misguided fool. And when the time comes, what else will there be for you to plead but for the effect you had? Because there is truly nothing else to commend your work.