One of the problem is that I tend to forget sadness when I am happy.
I look around for questions to ask myself:
am I really mentally ill or just overly dramatic?
Was all that really traumatic abuse, or did I just think of it that way?
When I am happy, I tend to say that it's not that bad after all
or that it's not all that bad after all,
and when I am consumed by sadness, I forget the times I was happy. I doubt if it really is real or if I'm just brainwashing myself.
I'm convinced that enjoyment only existed as a plead for help from depression.
The sadness glued in my brain keeps wishing for hope, and that's where "happy memories" come from.
As a 15-year-old, I am struggling to define happiness and sadness.
What exactly makes me delighted? And what makes me absolutely devastated?
Just like love, I struggle to define who I am,
what is what,
and when am I going to learn all those things-or where can I even find them at all?
YOU ARE READING
Dazed Off
PoetrySee what the young poet wrote in her old journals at only the age of twelve, and how her mental state progressively gets worse at age fifteen:) Collection of poems mostly about God, family, love, and hate to oneself. • most impressive ranking: #6 in...
