I am turning 25, and I was never happy. 25 years of my existence which I never chose, it just happened, I was given no choice but to live a miserable life and be forever marooned in melancholy. Solitary rules and it seems everlasting. I am 25 and I couldn’t think of any possible way I can be happy. Happiness is an understatement. Looking back in the past and to the things I’ve done – everything flashes back like a bullet train and all that I see is an endless queue of despair. I was into hopelessness all of my life. To any who celebrates life on the day he was born to this world, happiness is a certain truth. Fondest memories are treasured; everything good is cherished but never to me. I have long accepted the impossibility of being happy – this is a way of life. I have to forget myself and be somebody I am not. I am not real. I fake everything that is a suggestion of a happy and content living. I am 25, unhappy, maybe cursed, but who is going to break the spell? Life isn’t a fairy tale. Cinderella and Snow White never really exist in real life. There is neither happy ending nor a prince charming. Life in a real sense is about the many failure and downfalls I had. There is no happily ever after, there’s only once upon a time. Hope was once an armor; I never did stop believing that in search for real happiness I could stumble on it, I was wrong – instead, I felt pain, I shed tears, I bled, and I died inside. It was so wrong to make myself believe in the things only created by falsehood and lies. My life never changes; the years are only hints about how I’ve been enduring the sorrow of being exactly what I am – ALONE.
Three days from now, I’ll be 25. What I could wish for myself would not change a thing so why ask for happiness. It’ll only add pain to a struggling heart and a dying soul. I’d rather wish for a minute of peace of mind, a moment to feel that I am worthy of the life I breathe. I’d ask for appreciation and admiration for what I am capable of doing – loving if not being loved.
I am turning 25, and I was never happy. I thought it was a choice but now it is fate.
Three days from now, I’ll be 25. What I could wish for myself would not change a thing so why ask for happiness. It’ll only add pain to a struggling heart and a dying soul. I’d rather wish for a minute of peace of mind, a moment to feel that I am worthy of the life I breathe. I’d ask for appreciation and admiration for what I am capable of doing – loving if not being loved.
I am turning 25, and I was never happy. I thought it was a choice but now it is fate.
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