When I was a child, I wanted to be an artist because those were the happiest adults I knew. They smiled. They paid compliments. They listened when other adults throw tantrums. I didn't know then that it was a mask, that behind the smiles, the compliments, the patience was the constant struggle to advocate, not for themselves, but for the unspoken and causes where the only abundant resource was lipservice. I wish they didn't have to dance so much. It didn't seem like they wanted to.