I wasn't happy. Or rather, I'm not. It may be because of him. It may be just my own rotted mind calling me out on my horrible fantasies of reality. It may be.. oh, so many reasons that are burning a whole through my already darkened heart. ButI could easily tell my mother who loves, my father who cares, my friends who nurture, my counselor who listens. I shall not, though. For my burdens are too heavy for others to carry along with theirs. So, maybe that is the reason behind my constant struggle to make everyone I know happy in their constantly miserable lives. Maybe.. just maybe I believe that if their lives were a little bit easier then maybe I could get some help with mine.
But their lives don't get easier. And mine just grows harder.
And that's why I'm not happy.
For once it seems I've solved my own trouble. So why does it seem so hard to fix?
But their lives don't get easier. And mine just grows harder.
And that's why I'm not happy.
For once it seems I've solved my own trouble. So why does it seem so hard to fix?
