Dreary, aren’t we?

Do you ever feel yourself clinging to that happy feeling, the bandaid over your melancholy that slowly and painfully peels back, pulling at the wound underneath until the bandaid is gone and you are left with a bloody open wound. Until the next happy covering finds its way to temporarily soothe the pain, but not long enough to allow it to heal fully. It always peels off and you always fall back into the same dark place where you feel hopeless and alone. Unable to find happiness, all you can do is look up from the bottom of your well and see a small, mocking light.

Hoping it is all just in your head, blaming yourself for putting yourself back into your own darkened room. “Open the curtains” you tell yourself. But even so, it’s dark outside.

With heavy eyes and a long face, with slow strides and no will to speed up. Feeling you will never be anything great, like the way you are is wrong.