Sometimes, there is no fairy tale ending. Honestly most of the time, there is only a melodramatic soap opera rerun with a white noise background gnawing at your eardrums. The same way your laughter now claws at the back of your throat, and your teeth grind against each other when the sun is out. Sometimes, you can't share your happiness with the person that helped you find it. It was like someone hit a switch and now your thoughts run rampant, searching for a reason why you no longer go for a jog in the morning. Why you sleep in past every alarm you were so careful to set the night before. There's an art form you've mastered in talking yourself out of everything you loved to do. There are long nights you take breaks from howling at the moon to ask yourself if something is wrong with you. Sometimes, and I'm so sorry to say but, you just can't be loved. Sometimes you just aren't good enough. You, alone, a lonely sailboat in the middle of the ocean, so pitiful the waves are meticulous in never letting you capsize. An SOS squeezed out of the last living fibers of a shriveling raisin the mirror reflects back. So you call and leave voicemail after voicemail, leaving out how you didn't get better. How you wished the story didn't have to finish so soon. How you wished for a happier ending.