Sad face..

      Odd girl out comes to mind. It’s hard for me to feel happy. It’s never been easy for me to phony a smile. Shouldn’t I be ecstatic when my boyfriend comes home? One third of the time, I’m not. Why? I don’t know. Mood swings? Am I just grumpy? Well I feel grumpy. I don’t feel happy. Today Blanket turned 11. I wonder if he’s happy. It made me smile this morning seeing pictures of him looking older, smiling n such. Why can’t I just pretend? Better yet, why can’t real, authentic happiness find me? A part of me just wants to run, and abandon everything I built over the last year and search for myself. No matter how much I learn about my existence, and begin to appreciate the mere privilege of being alive, I continuously find myself caught up in the gunk and yuck of blackness where dying seems to be the only escape. Even tonight, I wished I was dead. I contemplated suicide, and I’m still waddling in the sadness.