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It's odd, I remember the beginning, the times I smiled, the nights I know you remember... That was happiness, that is what I remember of it anyway. I don't know what true happiness is, maybe I just won't let it in. Maybe I am afraid to be happy, or just afraid of having and losing it. People like me become self destructive and end up isolating themselves. Why be miserable and show the ones you care about how unhappy you are? But there's this thought, the one last logical, more so hopeful(read "wishful" wink , thought that sticks around saying there is a chance. You always have a chance at happiness. But then you become afraid of losing it so why try? I love a lost memory, that's all it is anymore. She is not who I love, she doesn't love me. I love those memories, even if they sting. Happiness becomes intwined with pain. Separating them becomes difficult. The more I concentrate on something else the easier it is to ignore pain, but memories come back. I tried to lose them, apparently my subconscious finds them and tortures me more. Amazing to think that subconsciously I want to go further insane. Subconsciously I just don't want to forget how happy we were, or we seemed. We've changed, grown up, and you are still more than I am in every way. I couldn't be like you, I can't try, I'm so angry and hateful I don't want to try to be better. I don't want to try to go anywhere. I have lost all interest in life. Memories of happiness are pain. Does that seem like a life worth living..?
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