I've lived a good life. People said I was kind, which I considered a compliment, and made me happy. My parents called me sweet, which made me happy. My friends called me honest and trustworthy, which made me happy, and they were all with me in my hospital room. They were sad, which made me sad. We all sat, a sobbing mess, listening to the heart monitor gradually slow down. But then I smiled, and everyone stared. "How can you be so happy? You haven't lived a full life yet..." One of my friends, whom I've known since Kindergarden, cried. "Because I am." I said, sitting up slowly. "I was able to make you all happy for a while, which made me happy. I lived a good decade, and have been happy all through it." I laughed, my head feeling lighter. My body felt a bit numb. "You've all done so much for me to keep me happy... and I'm grateful." I said, laying down. My brother and sister grasped for my hands, while my parents sat behind them, barely sustaining their smiles. "I wish I could live longer to thank you enou--" "No, you've already thanked us by making us happy as well." My sister interrupted. I looked over at her, and patted her head with the little energy I had left. "Thank you, so much." I whispered. I laid down, closed my eyes, smiled, and dreamt of a happy place.