A Book of Words That Never Seem To Be Enough

Thief

I can't say that I've stolen much in my entire life. I've never stolen a candy bar. I've never stolen money. But I did steal one thing that I continuously steal every single day. It is an addicting routine. Even if I will be the one to suffer from it in the end. I have stolen my own happiness. I have stolen my own laughter. I do not know why I do this. I cannot really explain it. I dream of being happy. But I make myself believe and feel that I cannot be happy right now. That I am not who I can be and because of that, I cannot be happy. Well not right now. I kid myself into thinking that to be happy I have to have money. That people have to like me. That I have to be skinny. That I have to have the perfect body. That right now I may not be happy but maybe I need to be unhappy right now to be happier later on. There is always a future I dream of where I am happy, maybe I am just not meant to ever reach it. And with these thoughts I slowly continue to steal away my own happiness. But instead of owning up to it I blame it on other things. I blame my body for not being skinny enough and that is why nobody loves me. I blame my age for the immaturity I embody. I blame my friends for not doing enough to pull me back when all I do is pull and pull and pull harder on my side in my own sick game of tug of war. It is a war that nobody will win. I dangle dangerously over an ocean of my own thoughts and emotions in which I can drown in. Slowly submerging myself in a sea of disappointment and sadness that chokes me and strangles me. I chain myself to a weight that will let me breathe just enough that I can survive, but I know I will become tired someday. I know I cannot keep surviving unless I unshackle myself and set my self free. What a treacherous and cruel way to treat myself, to steal my own happiness. But what can I say, I'm a thief in a sea of temptation.