Short stories!

I dont know. I guess.

My soul aches. Completely. I don't really know why, or what it wants. Darkness, I guess. So I provide it with the most darkness I can, but the sun will still rise again. And my soul will cry again. But there's no way I can stop the sun, and I have things that need to get done.
But, overnight, my body grew roots to the mattress of my bed. My body's fine with staying here. My stomach's cries have gone unnoticed and therefore, I have no reason to leave the bed.
I am satisfied in bed.
Until, again, the sun rises. And my roots are cut, and my stomach wails and my ears ring and my body crumbles. But for some reason, I pull it back together. I gather it all up, glue it back together, and push on.

I live to please.
I don't please myself, I do everything but that. I live to please others. I live to please others so much, that if I even wanted to be happy, I wouldn't know how. I don't know why I do this. I don't know if it's even my choice to do this.
But I don't know what else there is to do. What else is out there. My wings are long gone, rotted away with time. I want to run, I want to explore, but where? Where's the final destination I'm thriving to get to? Even though the exploration will be fun, the moment will pass and I'll feel even worse. I'll wish to go back to that moment, to the happiness I probably felt, but it won't work.
I can't force myself to experience happiness. I've tried and it all fails.

I'm just. Tired. I'm tired of being unhappy. I'm tired of working. I'm tired of trying. I've always been tired, I wasn't born tired, though. Everyone tells me I used to smile and I used to sing and I used to be happy. They all ask me what happened to her. I don't know. I don't have the answer. I can't remember when I stopped being happy or stopped feeling satisfied. I remember completely breaking down late at night, and regretting it in the morning.
I would wonder what I was thinking, and how could I ever think of that. I would wonder what my mother would think if she saw it, or what my dad would think if he stumbled across it.
So I would rip it up, and cover it in some excuse. Like I was tired or being over emotional. Maybe if I talked about it then, it wouldn't be so bad now.

I remember when my mother found my messages to my friends. My messages explaining how I was depressed and not doing well. My messages of feeling overly tired. She dismissed it completely, saying I shouldn't be thinking like that at a young age. Saying I have so much to live for. But even now, after years have passed, I don't know what so much is.
Now, though, I'm not sure if I can even tell my friends. Maybe she'd find it again and get mad. Say she already talked to me about this and that I shouldn't think that way.  She'd probably take my uses of music, my distractions, to see if that'd make it any better.
I remember the first time she did, and I didn't have my music. It's not like I always have music, it's just a stupid method to attempt to calm my anxiety and intrusive thoughts.
I've already thought of getting a therapist and getting medicine for it, but I've dismissed all those thoughts. I don't even know how I would afford those things, and don't want to bother my mother any more than I already do.

It's not like my mother is terribly bad. She's not, she's not at all. It's just my twisted mind and twisted memory. She's a wonderful person and tries her hardest, I'm sure, to keep me pleased. And that thought alone makes me feel terrible, since I'm not happy at all. She tries so hard to get me these expensive things, and though they shine, it's not pleasing me anymore than that A+ did on my English test. 

I don't know what I need to please myself. I'd see glimpses of happiness and shimmers of excitement, but they disappear so quickly, that I can't even remember why I had them or what caused them. They come and go and in the moment I don't think to remember why I smiled or what I laughed at. It's like I'm constantly trying to complete a puzzle but pieces keep disappearing and reappearing and I'm not sure what's going to disappear and what's going to stay.
My puzzle is almost complete, or it was before that pice disappeared and so did the middle and so did the edges and it all disappeared so now I need to start again, but I forgot which piece goes where and which is the center and which is the edge. I can't remember what the final picture was supposed to be and why I wanted it so bad.

I think, when I was young, I wanted a family of my own. I wanted kids and a nice husband and a bright smile plastered on my face. I wanted a good job and a nice boss with no real problems.
Back when I was young.
Now, I don't like kids. I don't like them for dumb reasons, like how they, stupidly, mess around with things their parents told them not to and fail to understand simple things, but then refuse to sit through the lesson. I don't like how, even when they're teenagers, they fail to understand how much work you put in to them. They refuse to respect you and don't care to listen to your rules, no matter how simple they are.
No, I don't like kids. Maybe I'm just..jealous. Jealous of how the kids are happy and how they can absentmindedly make others smile. That's probably it.

The thought of a husband pleased me when I was younger. The thought of him coming home from work and trapping me in his arms, and sitting down to enjoy the meal I made for him.
Now, I'm not even sure if I want a husband. So I want a husband or a wife? Will I even enjoy their company? Will my mother be happy with my choices? Will she be happy with my spouse? Will my family, overall, be happy?

Everything just got so...trivial. Everyone got so judgmental and, as I got older, things got even harder to understand. I didn't care if I had a husband or wife, I didn't care if they lived with me or across the planet, I didn't care. I just wanted, and I just want, someone to be there. But, I found out as I got older, that I probably can't have a wife. And my husband probably won't hug me when he sees me and he probably won't have time to sit and enjoy the meal I made for him.
He probably won't have time for me and will be busy with work, or maybe with some other woman that makes him happier than I can. Maybe he's not even happy with me.

I don't know. Overall, I'm confused, I'm sad, and I don't get it. About everything. I don't get anything, and I want to understand it, but I'm scared the answer won't be what I want. No, I know the answer won't be what I want.

I'm rambling. I'm sorry, I'm fine.
I think.
Don't worry.