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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mostly things that I had to get off my chest for the longest time - things that I had deliberately hidden away for fear of what I would find out by examining them too closely

Submitted: July 14, 2016

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Submitted: July 14, 2016



I don’t quite know where to start with this

I guess I should start with the admission that I am not happy

I have not been happy in a long time

There are brief bursts of happiness and respite but they never last long

I don’t know why

I constantly feel like I am not worthy

That I am not good enough

That other people know

That they can tell that I am faking it

That I am putting on an act of being okay

That really, I am barely keeping it together

But they see through it

Sooner or later

I don’t know who I can turn to with this

I know my friends care about me

But they have their own lives and their problems

I guess a more honest answer would be

I am too proud

Because I was always the strong one; the sensible one

The one people go to for help and advice and reassurance

I think I seek out to help people because it convinces me that I have my shit together

It distracts me from my own issues

Maybe I am selfish, secretly

Maybe all the kind things I do for my friends

Are just to convince them to keep on being my friends

Because what else do I have to offer?

I feel very, very alone

I do not like what I am doing

I do not see the point in it

I do not know how to talk to these people

Maybe the corporate world isn’t for me

Maybe the world isn’t for me

Maybe I just don’t belong

I don’t know where these feelings are coming from

It is likely I will wake up tomorrow and feel okay

But for tonight I feel nothing but dread at having to face the world

To have to pretend to be happy and cheerful

They say I laugh a lot

Then they can hear my laughter all the way across the hall

I wonder if I laugh too hard and too much

To cover up the fact that I don’t feel like laughing

Perhaps to fool myself

Into thinking that I am having a good time

See you’re alright, you’re laughing, you’re having the time of your life

You’re bonding with your colleagues

The truth is, I don’t really have any friends where I work now

Perhaps initially they are charmed by me

They always are, because I am smiley on the outside

Then they find out the truth

That I have nothing to contribute

That I am not very articulate

That I do not add anything of value to them

Then slowly they make less of an effort with me

It is a distressingly familiar pattern

I know I should not take it to heart

They owe me nothing after all

I feel like a fish out of water

Like an ape learning to do the ballet

With graceful dancers

Clumsy and awkward

And painfully the odd one out

Like someone tone deaf singing

With a beautifully harmonising choir

Excruciatingly off-pitch

And all wrong

My close friends are very kind

Sometimes I wonder whether the sole reason they are friends with me

Is their kindness

Maybe they feel sorry for me

After all I keep reaching out to them

Anything, anything to distract myself from how I feel

I have these periods where I swing between

Not wanting to talk to anyone

To seeking out people and their company

Almost to the point of desperation

I have taken to talking aloud to myself

Like a crazy person

People in the street sometimes give me odd looks

Perhaps it is a sign that I am losing my mind

Maybe I am

I wonder what the point is to everything

I see my life laid out in front of me

And I do not like where it is heading

Devoid of any purpose or meaning

Routine after routine

Pointless distraction after pointless distraction

Then death

What’s the point?

I have my family

I have my friends

I have my boyfriend

I’m spoiled really

To feel like this

When I am already so blessed

Truthfully I hate myself

I am disgusted with how weak I am

Appalled at of what little value I add to the world

Tired of constantly trying and trying

Trying to be good at my job

And failing

Trying to get my act together

And failing

Trying to be a good friend

And failing

Trying to be a good daughter

And failing

Trying to be a good girlfriend

And failing

Trying to reach out

And failing

Trying to be happy

And failing

Maybe I am just doing life wrong

Is there a reset button?


Tomorrow I will smile

Tomorrow I will laugh

But tonight

Tonight, I don’t know

Maybe this is just disgustingly self-indulgent

A whiny pity party more than anything else

But I felt this overwhelming urge to write

To brace myself

And confront the hidden ugly elephant in the room:

That I am not happy

Why is it that we equate unhappiness with failure?

Perhaps because we are bombarded so aggressively

By happiness and success from every social media channel

That to be unhappy is to be abnormal

That to be unhappy means that you simply aren't trying hard enough at life

I am done trying to lie to myself

I am done trying to distract myself from the truth 

I’m unhappy

And maybe just maybe

Finally coming to terms with this

Is the first step to trying to fix myself


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