How to be Happy

People are leaving me like the air in my lungs. I thought I was struggling to breathe but maybe I’m the one who’s letting go of the oxygen. I thought love was supposed to last more than a few hours,but it grew too fast and was gone before I could even appreciate that it was there.

This isn’t the way to be happy.

I’m pushing you away too. But it doesn’t hurt as much as losing another was. His memory put air in my lungs but my eyes sting at the sound of your voice and it keeps me alive. It’s why I stay.

This isn’t the way to be happy.

Expectations are being shoved down my throat and I can’t meet them. Nobody understands when things are too much, it’s no wonder I can’t breathe, there’s no room.

This isn’t the way to be happy.

The books I grew up with had happy endings, where the guy gets the girl and they live happily ever after. I guess I was naive to think I could have a happy ending, a happy beginning, a happy middle, a happy life.

But I don’t know what happy is.

When I grew older I was introduced to Shakespeare, who was known for happy endings but even better for tragic ones. I cut my fingers on the pages of Romeo and Juliet and was lead to the bitter, tragic end. I was beginning to think my ending would be fatal as well. But bloody fingers turned into bloody wrists that weren’t inflicted by the pages of a made up story. It didn’t matter how my ending was supposed to be, I just needed for there to be one.

You said you loved me the moment we met. I said I loved you back, but it wasn’t really real. Because he was still breathing for me and there wasn’t any room for you in my chest.

This isn’t the way to be happy.

I want to learn how to breathe on my own, because people aren’t oxygen. And I want to let him go, because all I am to him is skin and bones but to you, I’m more.

I want to tell you I love you and mean it. But most of all, I really want someone to teach me how to be happy.

s.b

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