I start to realize more and more that I’ll never be happy. Also IF therapy I get now WILL work, I’m not happy. Because the thing that makes me happy, also makes me really unhappy, and if I’m unhappy and down, I want to be happy, do the thing that makes me happy, but I also get more unhappy. The unhappiness also stays longer than the happiness, which is also not really happy, but happier than the unhappiness. Hope you guys still follow me ;P. It’s a little bit difficult, also to explain. Maybe this poem will help me to explain it better:
~My outside is made of carton,
but my real me is covered in marble.
My outside is happy,
but my real me is unhappy.
You will never be able to get behind my marble,
and so I will never be.
Though I’m inside that marble,
I will never get there,
because I’m not the real me.
I will never be my real me.~
Written by myself.
I will never be happy. And then I ask myself: What’s life worth when you know you’ll never be happy and should you go on with your unhappy life?