Hurt Go Happy

June 6, 2012
By Anonymous

The first think I ever learned to sign was,
"Hurt. Go. Happy."

Because I had read a book about a chimp, and that was the last thing he signed.

It means, that no matter what happens to me, I should be happy.

No amount of hurt should take away my smile at the end of the day.

When I am nervous I sign.
Or when I am scared I sign.

Hurt. Go. Happy.

I remembered this today.
In the bathrooms after school,
A girl washed her hands then flicked the water into my face.
I snapped. I honestly did.

I beat on her till two girls pulled me off.

You could call it a girl fight if you want.
I bet that's what your thinkin'.
Or you're thinking,
"Damn, what an idiot."
Because that is what's running thru my mind.

Later on that evening,
While walking back from practice,
A girl slapped my ass.

And it HURT.

I acted on my emotions.
I yelled in her face,
And almost laid her our right there.

I apologized afterward.
But she really didn't have the right.

Memories pour in by the scars that are opened.

Maybe that is why I hurt so much right now..

It's a hard thing, being an actress.
Everyone is watching you.
So you better put on your mask.
That's your job.

The lights are hot; everyone is watching.
You have to be giving it your all.

That's my life, and I love it.
But the other part is..
Sometimes I'm just so tired of saying,
"Yes, Sir."
"Thank you, Mam."
That I become the devil to everyone the second I hit the showers.

I'm so tired some days I just want to throw my hair up in a bun and die.

As an actress I know that when you walk out those stage doors, your on your own.
You don't know the right thing to say or do.
Or how your story ends.

And that's what makes it worth while..

But then I remembered;
Hurt. Go. Happy.

I met a boy.
His name was Dylan.
And he listened to what I had to say.

He gave me his number.
And he said to call him in December.

I'm sorry Dylan..
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I was too afraid..

You number is in my drawer; second from the bottom.

I met a boy.
He was deaf.
And I attempted to talk to him,
But he signed a bit too quickly for me to keep up.

He asked me,
"Name. You?"

And I signed my name and added,
"My. Sign. Name. Happy."

And I explained my story as best I could sign; some on a piece of paper.
But I finished by saying.

"I. OK. Hurt. Go. Happy."

And that couldn't be any more true,
Because that is what I have to do.

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