Pursuit Of Happyness

yeah. choice.

choice to take some pills that help to stay sane.

they forgot to mention that I’ll have to choose the poison which will supposedly take me closer to

I’d love to be wanted, to be needed, to be missed. Who wouldn’t, because that’s how we are raised and that’s how society has programmed us - to feel like having a partner is a necessity. And I had someone, but life doesn’t do as we’d want. And I couldn’t be that person who’s hurting someone else. Nobody deserves that. But I should be sleeping, because if I’m working 70 hours a week, sleep is only way how I spend my time living and I do not think then.

It’s very easy to lose it all. I know.

It’s never easy to rebuild it. But brick by brick. Slowly.

Leave those thoughts behind.

Leave all things behind.

Leave them behind.

Rewind it to where you left off. Resume from there.

Brick by brick. Wall by wall.

It’s not easy. But it’s doable.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Brick by brick.

From unsteady, to invulnerable.

Walls will help.

Brick by brick.

We will get it back.

There is no need for safe place, if it’s safe inside.

Brick by brick.

I can.

And I will.

I am the source of my happiness. I know it. I have done it before. I’ve held onto it. But now I’ve let it go. Maybe because I, as much as anyone, needed that bandaid. Or those stitches. Whatever you call it. But maybe I just fell for it because I didn’t control myself. It would be easy to live if I could explain everything. If only to myself.

If only it would be possible not to destroy all good things in head, before they actually happen. I’d love if I could apply this to all that’s bad. Like, I shouldn’t be depressed. And it’s done. Is it my fault? Maybe it’s nobody’s fault. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Or maybe it’s not supposed to be. But when you break, you turn to the dark side.

Nah. I’ll be good. Im good. Brick by brick. I will be in control. I will stop overthinking. I can and I will.

Just...

I say to myself and proceed to go on. I wouldn’t call them depressing, if anyone asks. They are my thoughts, so I think they are realistic from my point of view. And how I feel in certain moment. Yes. Undeniably, I do have bunch of mental issues, like, well, what not. But I mean, isn’t my feelings valid, because they are mine? So, who exactly decided that they have to be labeled as depressing? Who labels my feelings and why is it necessary? So someone makes more money? Whatever, but really, that’s no fun.

I would love to turn back to good old days, when there were no job, no bills, no shit like that. I mean, middle school is a ffin paradise, now that we look back at it. Even better before that. When you could just sit in fountain in your underwear because it’s hot outside. Like, the childish amusement about everything. Because amazed, because that pigeon is running between chairs. Because that butterfly is flying. When did all turn so bland and grey and, like, what the fuck. I mean, look at me, I’m your casual average human being at age of 22,  definitely not the worst looking person, not the stupidest person, I had dreams and hopes, just like the next guy, yet here I am. How the f did this happen. Depresso, socially disabled, so-sorry-for-myself in this bs pitty building those torn down walls. Like, I don’t want this crap. I DID NOT FUCKIN SIGN UP FOR THIS. how to stop it.

Like, that’s bullshit. I don’t give anything about what they say. I broke because of what I think. It’s ffin irony. I’ve been everstrong for whatever comes at me, but the biggest enemy comes from inside.

-“So, what’s your name?”

-“Emily”

I don't know what it is with females

But I'm not too good at that shit