Was it ever there?

I have become cynical about my own sadness now. I don’t believe it any more and I tell myself it’s just a lie and block it all out, that I’m feeding it by thinking about it. And it works, it really works. Not thinking about it makes it feel like it’s not there at all and makes me feel better, so much better. But if it’s so easily healed, I question its existence in the first place. And if it never existed, I’m just another pathetic teenager using sadness and feeding it as an excuse to avoid life. And that both scares me because it makes me feel false and at the same time makes me happy, because it means I am more okay than I thought. And I just don’t know how I feel now, only that if the opportunity presented itself right now then I wouldn’t kill myself. And that change makes me happy, I suppose. But fake, just a little fake.