It doesn’t feel right to be happy.
To feel the corners of your lips tug at your face;
Stretching towards your eyes.
Almost as if to touch them in an empathic kind of way.
Wishing to bring some shred of happiness and light back into your perception.
It feels almost illegal; and morally, physically wrong.

And yet, it’s not healthy to dwell.
To shove your mind into this timeline of past events.
Making your soul convulse at every thought,
Every moment,
And every reminder of everything you did wrong.
Everything you should have done,
But didn’t.
It’s not healthy; so you continue to do it.

Strained between this emotionless middle ground.
Numbingly living your days.
Completely lifeless.
Sleep walking through time, and days, and hours, and minutes.
Barely alive, yet fully living.

Constantly in a tug-o-war with yourself.
Having moments of happiness; pure bliss.
But, always quickly followed with thoughts
Of grief, and sadness, and despair.

Trapped in this bipolar state of living,
Like a fish trapped in a bowl.
Cut off from the outside world,
Imprisoned by your own being.
Dying to leave; to escape.
But every time you fool yourself into trying,
You find yourself crashing into those glass walls of fear.
Bigger, taller, stronger, and more powerful than you.
You’re desire to move forward.
And you’re will to live.
More forceful than you could ever wish yourself to be.

And you’re not even sure you’re living at all.
Because you don’t want to do anything.
You don’t want to eat anything.
You don’t want to say anything.
You don’t want to be anything.

Only the past.

A sacred place where your memories roam wild and free,
And happiness is at your fingertips.
Absorbed in the day dream of normality.
The innocent happiness of experiences.

And then,
As consistent as your shadow on a blistering day;

You remember.

****** back into a reality you lost your grip on.
Subconsciously forced to wear a smile,
Because it’s the simplest, easiest, and most fool proof way to lie.
To convince nobody, and yet everybody,
That everything is okay.
But more importantly,
That you are okay.

Living off of the thoughts of your past.
Hoping that someday, maybe; maybe,
You won’t need them anymore.

And so, until then, you remain a lifeless cut out of who you used to be.
Who you wish to be.
And who you will never, ever, regret.