I have had this days when i admitted that I probably did determine my own happiness. Then I got high and made more mistakes and woke up wishing I was dead. Truth is, most days, I 'accidentally drunk dialled' people who didn't quite care about me and looking at it now, it never really mattered. After all, lovers became strangers and strangers became lovers. Then my naivety turned into anger and naive anger became stupid mistakes. Stupid mistakes turned into lessons and if the lessons were learnt, I made new mistakes. Then the cycle kept on being a part of who I was. An identity. Every broken heart became a dream and with every added dream, it became a burden to my conscience and my soul. Then it stripped my life away and eventually, I became my own reality.
They say rock bottom isn't a place? Well... They are fucking wrong. I resided at that place for a while, called it home and made myself comfortable. I made a few friends down there. I had people adoring me while others loathed me for making their problems seem worse. They weren't. I have just been very good at pretending my whole life.
So, as I write, I haven't left rock bottom yet. Don't get me wrong, I am chasing my happiness and my happiness isn't reality right now.The reality sounds much worse than my life down here. Lately, home is where you smile most and I am smiling the most I have ever had in my life. It's sad that we can not see the finest things in life simply because we are chasing what life has to dictate. Of course they say bad decisions make your life short but we forget that we will all die. The real concern should be, will you die a coward or a hero in your own eyes.
