happiness

i am almost certain that no-one reads this and for me that is almost good. i don't really want to spread my misery. But sometimes it feels much better to write things here, with the possibility that someone might read them than in my diary which is already overflowing with bits and pieces of misery.

i wish that i could be happy. more than anything i hope for happiness. well maybe not hope, its not really the right word. pray. maybe. that happiness is in my future. i just want it to be near enough that i actually make it. at the moment at the rate that i am falling if i hit the ground i might never make it.

i feel that happiness shouldn't be this hard to attain. it shouldn't be an epic struggle. i know that it is unrealistic to be constantly happy. all the time. today we would probably think there was something wrong with someone who was so constantly happy, they would certainly be annoying. but at the same time i feel it should be relatively easy to feel happiness at some point. a small joy not even for that long.

at the moment i am in such a cloud that i don't ever even remember being happy. i don't think that i have ever truly been happy. i don't even really remember feeling at all happy as a child and certainly not as an adult.

my whole life i felt totally suppressed like i shouldn't cry, like feelings were bad and the whole time i felt so sad. so grief-stricken and heartbroken all at the same time. when i was tiny. its all i really remember the stress of it all. is mum happy. is my brother happy. are all the people around me pleased with how i am performing. i always felt like everyone had so much else going on that they didn't have time to look after me. so i had to prove myself. make them love me. and i never really felt like it worked. when i was little i never really cried and until i was struck down by the reality of my depression i never cried in front of people. the fact that i can still make new friends and get jobs shows me exactly how good i have become at pretending.

i was never that moody child. i always looked happy, bright as a button. trapped in my silent private world where i was never good enough.

and i wish that my mother had said to me ever that she loved me in a way that i felt it. it is a very rare thing for my mother to say she loves me. people used to say that it was her actions that mattered not her words and that some people found it hard to say they loved people. the problem was she never really had much trouble saying it to my brother. she's all talk there. and she's never been particularly maternal with me either. so i guess i just didn't get to feel it. of course i know that she loves me. but i've never felt it. and i think i need to. i feel very starved of the deep caring love that most people would get from their mother. the nurturing. and i do feel that if dad hadn't died it would've been different. i think that i would be an entirely different person. maybe not so lonely. but i'm not that person.

i just am the person that is here. typing away. wishing things were different.

and its like i've thought before, the gaps that are in me, they are never going to go away. they can't be filled. it doesn't mater how well i do or how many friends i have. i will always have gaps. stuff that just is missing. i don't know whether i can be happy with all these gaps. and if there never going to go away then what real chance do i have?

how are you supposed to know when enough is enough? how are you supposed to be able to tell if the pain others would feel if you shattered and they each got a piece of your pain would be less than the pain that you feel. whether they would survive with that little bit of your pain. how are you supposed to know when to give up?