This Is Me, I Guess

Happy? Unhappy?

Am I an unhappy person?
Stuck in a darkness, unable to escape?
Suffocated in my mind, consumed in my emotions?

I wouldn't say so.
In fact, I think I'm a decently happy person.
I have amazing friends and supportive family.

So how can I produce such sad words?
If I am happy like I say I am, how can I be in such a stage of self hurt?

I'm not depressed.

I can eat.
I can sleep.
I can truly laugh, I think.

But I always have this weight behind me.
Dragging me down.
Causing my mind to frown.

I know that if I truly wanted to, I could truly become depressed.
Why would anyone want that?

Well let me say that this feeling is addicting and I think it should be addressed.

So I write these words.
Preaching my state of mind.
Which is a mixture of "I'm okay and not alright."

Which is fine, I guess.
Though I kind of feel like a fucking mess.
Yet I know that I am blessed.

Maybe this is some sort of test.
I need to eradicate this feeling in my chest.
And though I may not be at my best.
I know that I'm not at my worst.

I say I am fake, but that is not true.
I just don't know which me should be viewed.

Everything I present is all part of me.
I just don't show everything to anybody.
Besides, how can I be fake if I don't even know who I am?

So as I lay here crying in my bed,
I wonder why I hang my head.
Everything I think of turns to dread and yet,
I don't want to be dead.

Why can't I control the words produced in my mind.
I have something I need to find, but what is it?
I feel like I am running out of time.

Tick.
    Tock.
       Tick.
           Tock.

The clock strikes twelve.
I'm in my room so now it's time to delve into the dark corners of my brain.
The place I always think I never want to be again.

But like I said,
This feeling is addictive and everything is so predictive.
It has become a sickening haven for me to misbehave in.

Think the thoughts that my hands can't write.
For the fear that my happy parents will read them tonight.

I don't want to explain the reason for this fright.
I just want to take my flight.

Run away to a distant land because no one will understand.
I need my space and although I can't erase the feeling of this case,
I want to run away from this place.

But I would really just be running away from myself.
Running away from this self torturing hell that will always set alarm bells in my head thinking that In any minute I'm going to be dead.

But I lie to myself. 
Saying that "I am fine" to myself.
"These are merely words that rhyme with someone else" to myself.

And I can't seem to accept the help.
It gives me a funny feeling in my stomach.
Oh well.

I push it away though I know it will make me better.
But I just can't push past that final letter.
Ending this hell with a single dot.
It sounds so easy but...
I just cannot