The Joker

I question a lot of things these days. How did you get here? Why are you like this? Why are you sleeping on yourself? What and who do you believe in? Do you even still believe in anything or anyone? How do you feel? What do you feel? Do you even still feel anything?

These are some of the questions. And sometimes, I have the answers. Most times, I don’t, then I just laugh instead. I laugh a lot about a lot and maybe I do it a bit too much, but laughter unconsciously became my default response to life a while ago. The lifestyle of a joker.

I saw the Joker movie last month and when he said, “I used to think my life was a tragedy, but now I realize it’s a comedy” I felt and related to it more than I expected. I mean, I have shed my fair share of tears and oh boy, crying is such a bloody therapeutic experience (you should try it sometime, you know, just let it flow — let all that’s weighing you down find its way through the tears), but there’s something about laughing that is also therapeutic. I don’t know what it is yet, but just like how you laugh at a joke you don’t understand so you don’t get left behind, I will keep on laughing because the show must go on.

It will all make sense in the end, so if it doesn’t make sense now, it only means it’s not the end yet. And when it does eventually, na that time the laugh go sweet pass.