I’m not old. I’m not sick. I’m not sad. But I’m dying, all the same. I should be happy, my life is good. Better than a lot of people. Better than it has been in the past. Nothing is wrong, really. Nothing’s really right either, but hey. I’m just not happy. I’m getting so tired of hearing myself cry. And that’s all it is. I hear it, but don’t really experience it. Its like I’m watching all these good things happen to someone else. I think I’m just uncomfortable being happy. Is that possible?
Anyways.
I saw something online the other day that posed the following question:
If […]