I was never a cheerful kid, I was never I sad one. I was in the middle, lost. Sometimes I’d rather be cheerful, or even sad, at least I know I’m something. For a long time I’ve been finding myself, looking around, judging, seeing, wondering about other people’s lives when what I need to be looking at is my own.
I like running, drowning, hiding, going far away so that no one can see me. I’ve been misunderstood my whole life, so why even bother telling people why I’m sad. People always tell me I look older, and I even talk older, because you know why? It’s because I feel old, I feel like my life has been a colossal shame. My life has been a pit of broken dreams. I watch people being happy, finding love, or just finding something inside themselves that can make them feel complete. If you ask me how do I see my glass? It’s been always have empty.
My life is a joke, I guess that’s why I’m funny, I guess that’s where I get my humor. When will I even feel complete? When will I ever feel contented? I wonder, will I ever find happiness inside me? Happiness is a simple word, and yet it’s very over rated, and very had to say. I love happiness, and yet happiness doesn’t seek me.