I’m Comfortable With Sadness

I’m comfortable with sadness. I wonder if my life will always be like this. I wear sadness like I wear a shirt, always with me. I want to be happy, but happy is unfamiliar. How is it that sadness has become my comfort, my home? If I reach out my hands, happiness is just in reach. But I cling to the darkness because it is familiar. I don’t think I deserve to be happy. Its like when I personally take 2 steps forward my home life knocks me back10 steps. So I’m back to the beginning again, back to feeling worthless and stupid and ugly.