I tried sleeping off the days,
But it just made the nights
More unbearable.
I tried sleeping through the nights,
But the days became even longer.

Every week I told myself
I’m going to try to be better.

Weeks turned into days.
Days turned into hours.
And the hours turned into minutes.
I hounded myself every moment
Of every day,
Telling myself that if I didn’t get

Better

I would be done with myself.

I was my own problem
And my own solution.
I wallowed in my own self-pity.
I dug my own grave and was
Ready to lie in it.
I became cynical.
Too blinded by the hate
I harbored for myself
And everyone around me,
I couldn’t see
The answer I was looking for.

Or maybe

I didn’t let myself see it.

After enough time,
My own lies became
My truths.
And I lived by them.
I built myself up
Just to beat myself down again.
I was a house
And my thoughts were the fire.
Consumed by them every day
And at night I laid my head to rest
In the ashes.

Eventually,
It all became too much.
I didn’t enjoy hating myself
Even though I told myself otherwise.
I didn’t enjoy shutting myself in
Even though I told myself I should.
I didn’t enjoy being sad.

Happiness isn’t a destination,
It’s a state of mind.
A state of mind was what I was looking for
All along.