Heavy

"I keep dragging around what's bringing me down. If I just let go, I'll be set free."

Misery. You get so used to it that sometimes, even when things are going great, your mind doesn't believe it. You get so used to crying yourself to sleep that when someone comes along to wipe your tears, you slap their hand away. You get so used to feeling heavy that when someone shares your burden, it doesn't feel any lighter. Even when there are rainbows, you miss the rain. You seek it out. Almost like self-sabotage. Exactly like self-sabotage.

Pain. It is the only real thing to you. The only constant. Happiness feels foreign, almost like you're an outsider in your own body, in your own home.

This is life. Shit gets messy. Nothing is ever perfect. It doesn't have to be. So let the happy people be happy. And let the sad people be real.