My life was designed to be filled with pain and misery. [Ok, that was overly dramatic, but her father had said something like that once...] It isn't a matter of feeling it easily. I get a whole lot of it, and whenever there's something good enough to make me happy...

What do you care? So what if I'm not ready to believe completely? Why should I think being happy isn't just another chance to be vulnerable? What's it to you anyway?