"You can't see my scars. They aren't on my body."*

But maybe you can hear them --
In the words I say, or quite often, don't say.

Or maybe you can catch a glimpse --
In the looks I repress, or quite often, don't repress.

...I'm sorry I can't let you in.
Don't take it personally.
I rarely let anyone in far enough to *see.

The scars aren't completely healed.
They're too painful, too deep.

Why rip the scabs off?
If I do, they may bleed forever.

I'm not even sure
why I cut this time.
i guess I just did it to feel
to feel what?
I am happy, aren't i?
I should be.
hell I should be ecstatic.
I have a loving girlfriend,
my friends are great,
my parents trust me again,
and I have God by my side.
so what is it that I ever so
desperately need to feel?

Can I tell you a secret?
I am not unhappy.
I am not sad.
I am not angry.
I am anything but depressed.
I think that is what I miss.

The sadness is what I crave.
The constant happiness isn't
fulfilling my desires anymore.
Is there something wrong with me?
Some kind of unknown disorder that
causes you to crave the very thing
that made you hate yourself for so long?

This happiness is driving me mad.
It is like I will not let myself
be happy all day.
Why can't I just stay happy?
It's a wonderful feeling.
It makes everything seems brighter
and more beautiful!

So, why can't I just accept that
I am happy and get over
what needs to be
out of my life?