I try and paint a picture of what happiness looks like to me,
but for some reason it always comes out blank.
I try and use my poetry to describe the feeling of what I want my happiness to be,
and I become confused and the words jumble into nothingness.
I sometimes see this as a sign that I was never meant to be happy.
That my happiness is subjected to become something I could never understand or apprehend.
I grew up thinking happiness was for everyone.
I later learned about depression and found that everything was a lie.
My friends ask me what makes me happy,
and the only thing that comes up is the idea and concepts of what happiness is,
but I never can say what my happiness is.
I know I want Love,
but
does
Love
want
me?

Drip Drop, Drip Drop.
The rain patters in the distance.
Crash.
A loud noise heard in the distance.
Creek, Creek.
The sounds of old wooden boards.
All this in a lost forest.
The forest gone within minutes.
The image of a human.
Drip Drop, Drip Drop.
Their tears shatter on the floor.
Crash.
A picture thrown upon the floor.
Creak, Creak.
A parent at the door, of the sorrowful.

He made his heart flame resistant, so no fire could march in and set it ablaze. It seemed like the perfect strategy to keep the unwanted out.

No Love, no joy, just sadness and tiredness.
But she. She was different. She walked into his life unannounced. She walked straight into his heart. She did something no one had ever done or attempted, she lit up his heart.
One day closed off, the next set ablaze by her.

He was confident he could make her happy, he was confident that would make him happy too.

She had problems from the others,
ones that she carried on her back every single day.
Loneliness, anxiety, and distrust were only a few animals that she carried each day.
He wanted to help her, he wanted to keep her happy.
He slowly took on a little of each, to help her carry that heavy load.
Soon he took those problems as his own, she unwilling, and unknowingly was destroying him.
He needed an out, he couldn't stay. He decided to leave and breathe for himself.

He lied to himself constantly looking in the mirror and seeing his fake reflection.
The reflection was perfectly fine, so he was too.
But in truth he was hurt, tired, and lonely.
New problems that arose for him were solitude, lonesome, and silence.

He realized he needed her back.
He loses his freedom when he returns to her, he can no longer fly.
But instead he gains a grasp over his problems, and knowledge of his time apart.
But did the girl who burnt his heart and set it ablaze, make him happy or content?

Did she really heal him?

Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember what it feels like to be happy.
The last time I saw that emotion I was putting it in a Box to store away.
The memory sometimes emerges from my head,
but is quickly submerged by the growing darkness within my own mind.
I will remember those days of a smile always being on my face,
and soon black tendrils come to darken the moment.
I still have the Box that contained all my happiness in my room,
It haunts me. But I adore the Box.
I adore the thought of my happiness still existing somewhere out there.
That Box used to mean the world to me,
but now it only torments me.
I want to open the Box and remember the joy I once felt, the love that was stored away.
Although I could always do that,
I know doing so will drag me into more darkness.
So what should I do with the Box?

Have you ever sat back and watched your whole world fall apart?
You spent hours,
Days,
Months,
Years,
putting it all together piece by piece,
brick by brick,
just to be helpless when it all comes down.
Watching it all crumble after all the hope and aspirations you built up for.
After seeing your future and carefully constructing exactly what you needed, just to see it disappear into the darkness you always feared.

You ever love someone with your whole heart and realized it wasn’t enough?
To live,
Love,
  Laugh,
so hard your worries become something of a distant nightmare.
You remember your depression as a figment of your imagination.
You loved so hard that they became your world.
Have you ever realized that you did all that you could do,
but it still ended unfortunately,
and all you want to do is reverse time and get them back?
But reversing time doesn’t erase your memories.
All the pain is still there.
Your world and love still left you.