for the longest time, i thought the key to a happy life is to surround myself with people that made me happy. but the older i get, the more apparent it becomes that it’s far from true. happiness isn’t that simple. i don’t think happiness is for everyone, at least not easily. i make so many mistakes in my life and a lot of them are too complex to explain here. but my mistakes are a part of who i am. when i was twelve, it was a hard year for me and even though the moments are blurry, i remember it was the first time i ever felt truly alone. i was only a kid, a very sad one, and i was alone. i was surrounded by the people that were supposed to make me happy but felt nothing but sadness. my mom worked day and night to give me a better future and i always felt lonely because she couldn’t really be around when she was too busy struggling to pay bills and be strong. i look up to her because i don’t think i could ever be that strong. i got used to being quiet even when the world talked to me. i made friends with my scars and kissed my pain, i got to know it so well. my suffering became my best friend. that feeling of ‘not good enough’ and ‘just give up already’ consumed me. i want to apologize to myself for always being so hard on myself. i never really cut myself any slack. i still don’t. i feel sorry for myself, for inviting in that loneliness and embracing it. my best friend knows all of my deepest secrets, and all of those secrets will die with me. i’ll be buried with all of those secrets, they will be right with me in a graveyard somewhere. best friends until the end.