April is here, and my persuit of happiness still teeters on a good month. But tonight, on the eve of the first day of April, my eyes sting. Not from oversleep, undersleep... but the worst kind of sting, that of tears. Perhaps I should be counting on May.

There is nothing I am more ashamed of than the fact that I still really am in love. I shouldn�t be ashamed to love, it is so honest and good and great, some would say. And at any other point in my life, that would be me saying it. But now I am different. I am so jaded, so hard, so jealous, so bitter, so devastated. Every once in a while I find something, read something that triggers a memory, makes it come to life and picks a scab inside of me just a little bit. Not that this heartbreak isn�t on my mind 80% of the time anyway, but certain feelings, events, especially smells... makes me feel like it all happened just a week ago. And as mortified as I am to admit it, I deceive myself when I lapse. Tears begin to roll down my cheek and that terrible fist in my stomach pushes into me. When this happens, I feel like I am letting myself down, and not just me, but everyone. I feel guilty that this can still happen to me and that I have no control over my feelings, that no matter what I do to try and be happy � no bright pink Gap coat or Jellyfish cup can appease me � there is still this ominous gray cloud raining on my parade. I wish he�d stop raining on my parade.

I have been trying to take the bad and make good; �If life gives you lemons, make lemonade!�. I am an optimistic trying to overcome this horrible rut I�ve fallen into. It�s getting harder and harder to get out of bed. I do not want to be depressed, and I seem to have a one way ticket there. I want to smile at Happy Couple Salad Dressing On The Side. I want to prosper in my bedroom for more than 2 hours without feigning to get outside to a public place, where I can be happy. Where I can breathe. But how?

Hmm.

As a start, I could invest in some umbrellas. Some goulashes, and (as my 6th grade field trip to Yosemite and its snow taught me) some gaiters. I wouldn�t need a raincoat, since the wonder of the bright pink Gap coat has come into my life (maybe all of my ensemble should match?). It is very fitting considering that pink is the color of female empowerment, a new dawn, and change. For real. And of course, some hot chocolate � with whipped cream � an essential to any rainy day. With all of this backing me he can�t possibly rain on my parade, or at least it would be welcome, for it would be a Rainy Day Parade. And Small Town Ginger would trudge along with our baton throwers, elephants, floats, trombones and horseback riders to the marching band covers of Beatles songs, kicking it all off with �Fixing A Hole� and following with, of course, "Rain". And despite the weather, their instruments would stay in tune. We�d even have our mugs of hot chocolate in hand, never dilhouted, but sweetened of course, by the rainfall. Should I begin to shame myself and cry, like today, my tears would just wash away from the rain streaming down my face. My eyes would be replenished by the water, cool and crisp, and chase away the sting... that horrible sting. There would be no more rainy eyes. Just a rainy sky and a parade to celebrate it with.

And we all know that April showers bring May flowers.