I didn't feel guilty about being a killjoy until...

It's been a hell of a week.

I consider myself a positive, upbeat kind of person. I believe in the power of manifestation, looking on the bright side, and finding joy in the little things. Despite all the reputation that playing the role of the Killjoy gets in literature, classrooms, and social situations more broadly, I always figure out how to bring realization and laughter in most of my interactions. This week, however, seemed to be an exception.

I do not know if the story of what happened is at all relevant. I worry that in the past few months, everyone has had a version of a tale that summons the guilt that comes with bringing up difficult conversations. This past week, I was confronted with the image of being difficult.