I can’t remember the last time I have been happy. There are some memories that are okay-ish. Most of my memories that are supposed to be happy ones are fake. I always act happy, but I’m really not. I don’t want things to be like this forever, but I don’t see how things can be different. Life sucks. Sometimes I hear people say how they miss their childhood. I can’t say the same. When I think back about my childhood, I think about the sexual abuse and how my parents split up. I can’t think of a time where things were even remotely okay. There have always been problems. I often suppress my past and ignore it, but I can’t deny that it happened. Certain things are unbearable for me. I have been wandering in the darkness for so long now and I don’t see a way out. Inside I feel dead. When I go to sleep at night, I dream not to wake up. Some people seem happy and I wonder how they do it. How can someone be happy? What is happiness? It feels like everyone is just acting and fooling themselves. To me happiness sounds like a myth.