I sat in my room, like I'd done every day of my life
I looked up at the ceiling, the room hot, the moon streaming through the window
and I thought , all by myself, no voices to interrupt,
What does happiness feel like?
I've been shut out from the world, alone, sad, in darkness for far to long
to even remember what true happiness is.
For years, I've yearned for perfection, nothing but perfect was good enough, but I've learned; slowly, eventually, that perfect isn't real. Nothing can be truly perfect, and perfection doesn't yield happiness.
So I thought what does?
Criticizing myself isn't the answer
wishing I could disappear isn't the answer
the voices aren't the answer
I also realized the voices can be wrong
no, the voices are wrong
So with this revelation, a journey lies ahead.
A long, tedious, and possibly the hardest journey I will ever take.
Certainly not the last.
I need to rediscover myself.
Reinvent myself
figure out who I am, so that I can learn to love myself.