Happiness. It seems to be the key to life. We all want to achieve it. Happiness is something we are always looking for, working towards, and always seem to be missing. Or maybe that's just me.
I think something is wrong with me. No. I know something is wrong with me. I have all I could ever want in life - a strong family, loyal friends, an education, and a beautiful home. But why is it that I am still so unhappy? I imagine my life to always be this way. I never expect to find true happiness. I need to fix myself. The problem is, I'm not sure I can be fixed.
It's like my mind and body are not alone. There's this dark figure, blacker than night, transparent but at the same time opaque. It seems to hover near me, and sometimes it latches on. Sometimes it's nowhere to be seen and I think it has finally left me alone, never to come back again. And sometimes it consumes me to the point where I have lost myself.
I don't know what to do, where to go, who to talk to, or what to think. Am I crazy? Have I somehow lost my mind along the way?
My past is a blur, full of misunderstanding and confusion. I don't know who I am or who I am supposed to be.
But only one thing is certain. I am not happy.
