Behind My Eyes.

bad vs good.

how is it that i'm a million times better at writing about the bad times than i am the good ones?

i've sat down on numerous occasions and tried to think about how i could make the good days or even a good time flow into a few simple sentences to explain how i feel,

and every time i've had to delete what i've written because i hate it.

i have so many good times i could write about but they don't flow from my mind in such a way that sounds nice.

i think it has to do with the way all my happy memories seem erratic and all over the place whereas all of my sadder memories are constant and have a direct start and end.

the times in my life are easy to pinpoint but my memory always fails me on the details.

i don't think i'd be able to write a single coherent piece on a happy memory unless the end goal was to drive myself insane.

i try to not dwell on the fact that i can't write about happy things,

it's upsetting to think about and i pray that someday i'll be able to make sense of the good times enough to write something for them.

i want to do them justice and i'm worried that i'll disappoint myself.

i know that i'll disappoint myself because i do it all the time.

i do nothing but let myself down and i can't seem to stop it.

it's just one thing after another.

and no matter what i do,

i'm always going to be a failure.