Why do I feel this way?
It's like a garden with no flowers.
Instead, it has wild plants and stinging thorns.
It's like an empty, endless hallway,
with an eerie and unsettling feeling.
It's like a winter morning,
but the warm sun rays aren't reaching my cold skin.
It's like I feel bad for myself,
but a corner of my heart telling me, "You deserve it."
It's like I'm just trying and trying and trying,
but I'm getting nowhere.
It's like I'm pushing myself so much,
but I'm just left exhausted, with no energy, no motivation,
and zero progress.
It's like I want to be happy again,
I want my laughter back,
but I'm well acquainted with my darkness.
It's like I want to open up to the ones that I trust,
but I'm afraid.
I'm afraid that my darkness will consume them;
I'm afraid that they would leave me too.
I'm afraid that they'll promise me that they won't hurt me the same way,
but would end up leaving me with more scars.