a i r

Even on the happiest of days, it is never easy.
It feels like everything inside me is constricting, restricting, twisting and screaming.
I am never going to be good enough.
I am never ever going to be free of this.
Even on the happiest of days.

Breathing burns, my lungs turned to stone.
And the weight of every tear shed holds me down.

I can't do this every day for the rest of my life.
I will wear too thin, and there are only so many times something that is broken can be mended.

Living in my head is harder than anything I have ever faced.

I am never going to let myself be happy.
Even on the happiest of days.