As a creature of habit, I've created this awful habit of never allowing myself to"let it all out" but rather, I tend to shove most of it down until my emotions are so full that they erupt like the largest volcano could possibly imagine.
I hate myself for it because it hurts. Not just me, but everyone around.
I keep saying that I'm tired of wearing a mask and I am, but it's almost as though the mask I wear has become a part of me. It's like a security blanket that I keep with me to shield me from myself.
I wish that I could effortlessly be happy. I wish that I could erase a lifetime of memories. I wish so hard that I was someone else. But I'm not. I'm me and it fucking sucks to be so most of the time because even all the amazing things about my life can't seem to reach that place in my mind to turn on the happy switch. Sometimes I'm afraid it's been disabled and will never work.
There are things that make me feel happy for a moment or two, but they soon become buried under all the shit that's made me so fucking sad for so fucking long.
I should have never gotten married. I wish that I would have never fallen in love. My emptiness makes me a terrible wife. My depression makes me a terrible person.