Oh, Annie, You Little Gem

In my interior travels I have often stopped to wonder what it is that makes feelings of sadness and melancholy attractive. I have been heard telling someone about a 'good bad mood' I was having. Y'know, really enjoying being pissed off and looking forward to someone crossing the line, and spending time imagining the verbal shit-kicking I would serve up to them. Life could be wonderful if I wasn't so intent on making it confrontational and dramatic. Too much T.V., perhaps.
Greta Garbo's misquoted, "I vant to be alone." was snatched up and is now used as the Hallmark equivalent for depression and anti-social behavior, glorifying the desire we all share, at times, to let everyone know how down we are and that we are in a funk. Of course, real depressives and disturbed people are alone, and don't spend any amount of time advertising it, but those unfortunates are another crisis we have no time to deal with.
A good glamour funk is a work of art, but the line is fine when it comes to pulling it off and getting the desired response. That is, of course, attention and empathy from the other actors we share our stage with. Some of your more astute friends will recognize your attempts but if you do it right they will be moved by your plight and offer condolences by the truckload. Mission accomplished.
There is, however, an element of crying wolf here. I will illustrate with Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poem "Solitude", in which she wrote:

Laugh and the world laughs with you
Weep and you weep alone.

However attractive the melancholic ideal is there is a limited shelf life and sooner or later people get tired of the routine. Much better life would be if remembered as an incurable optimist or indefatigable comic. I feel better already. Might be a good day after all.