top of page
  • Maya Belgica

Happy Pills (Poem)



I take my pills and I’m happy all the time.


I’m happy all the time.


I’m happy all the time.


I walk down the streets of Tokyo, headphones on as I head toward the thrift shop. I need a new pair of jeans anyway. University’s tough and demands budgeting and I’ve been living on a single pair of jeans that are now falling apart.


Entering the store, I’m greeted by some workers and as I wait for a friend who agreed to go shopping with me, I open the app everyone uses when they have nothing better to do with their time. Tiktok.


My ‘for you’-page has been quite the mess lately, with rants, cringe-worthy povs, edits, and some horror stories I find quite amusing. As I’m mindlessly scrolling through my feed, I come across a video of a clearly obese person with the description of their video being #bodypositivity, and as expected from society today, everyone was cheering them on. I scrolled past it and oddly enough, the next video was about pretty privilege. Despite it appearing as if I was occupied with my phone, I was instead occupied by the thoughts running through my head.


The voices in my right-brain are kinda funny.


They tell me “take a deep breath, it’s always sunny”.


But where I leave the lights on, it’s so obvious that my life’s pretty plain.


I guess it’s just easier to smile and say you’re happy or “stay positive”. I mean, it's already been proven that smiling naturally makes you feel better over time, but I can’t help the unsettling feeling that crawls underneath my skin when I think about it. Can you imagine a world where everyone is just using these “positivity” trends and the like in order to excuse themselves from the things that are actually wrong? Just a bunch of zombies high on these invisible happy pills we call “positivity”.


I’m not saying that body positivity is irrelevant. I am well aware that we could all have the same diet and routines and still have different bodies, but I hate it when it feels like people are influencing others to say “hey it’s fine if you’re not taking care of yourself. Just smile at the camera and say #bodypositivity!!”. Because let’s be real, is it really positive if the effects it has on you are negative? Both physically and mentally. I’m in no place to tell people what to do with their lives, but the irony and lies are sickening.


I exit the app and go onto youtube where I see a video about the fast fashion industry. I click on it and while a part of me is listening, most of me is just looking through the comments.


“They blame us but sometimes thrifting isn’t an option”


My brows furrow as I scrunch my nose. What makes thrifting not an option? I mean there are quite a lot of thrift stores now and while you say you buy from the fast fashion industry for the cheap prices and high quality, you could probably get something even better for a lower price at your local thrift store. Heck, there are even online thrift stores now.


People really do just find ways to make any kind of excuse for the things they know they’re doing wrong, I think to myself still scrolling through the comments. I get that sometimes you want to feel trendy and look good but is that urge really so strong that you have to visit H&M every week?


I sigh looking at my watch. They should be here in a while.


We take strange things to feel normal.


We take strange things to feel normal.


We take strange things to feel normal.


To feel normal. To feel normal.


We do. We really do. From people who actually take antidepressants, to people who get swept up in the rising waters of the fast fashion industry, we do take the strangest things to feel normal. But what even is normal? Is it the things we see online? The smiling faces, good vibes, productive schedules to last you a lifetime? Are those normal? Is that what makes a person normal? The sickening fake smiles on their faces? The hair falling off their heads from the supposed “productive” schedule they follow? What the hell is normal?


I take my pills and I’m happy all the time.


I’m happy all the time.


I’m happy all the time.


But are we really?


bottom of page