One Can Be Unhappy about Anything, But Him/Herself

You know what’s the scariest thing to me? Being so so so unhappy about what I am, who I am. I let it be, thinking that time would heal and fix and improve and mend. In short, I don’t even want to think of this or to be even bothered unhappiness for a single minute. Because it hurts everytime I focus my mind on that. So I escape and writing may be one of the tools, the efficacious channel to drain that emotional psychological sewage out of my chest. It doesn’t solve but brings me closer to a better understanding of myself. And I am so glad I can write, because if I couldn’t, I may be now mad, insane or mentally and psychologically dead. It’d be disastrous…
In the meantime, let me find what cheers me up most in this life: being able to breathe, feel and move and think and say what I have in my mind.

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