I don't know exactly when or how I lost my happiness. it feels like it was a gradual -process, like an illness forcing the health out of my body. too many bad things happening without the breath of fresh air of hope can be constricting.
maybe it was in the sixth grade, when even at the age of 12, I couldn't take what was going on. at 12, I was more concerned with splitting open my wrists than I was with making necklaces out of plastic beads or obsessing over boy bands. or maybe it was on my 14th birthday when even the closest of people forgot the very being of my existence.
or maybe when I realized I didn't have a future ahead of me and broke down the summer after every school year, panicking that I didn't know what to do or wishing I could go back in time and change things. whatever it was, its lead down to a slow deterioration of my character. loneliness, emptiness, hopelessness. they feed the aching sadness that feels impossible to escape from.
or maybe it was before I was even born. maybe it was the instant my parents met that it was already foreseeable that my life would just be this big and vast mistake that I'd want to get rid of for the rest of my life.
sometimes it's impossible to even pretend you're happy anymore. people start to notice you aren't who you used to be and you realize the way they think of you is how you were before you became this empty void.
i don't know when I lost my happiness, but I want it back.