I never found a way how to be really happy, for longer than a day or two. I thought of drowning and hanging and of sharp razors, to keep it all inside. Was it really selfish to want to be happier than just for 48 hours? I know now I knew nothing back then. I knew shit. Or even if I knew, I wanted more. More than I could get. I wanted to be happy so badly that I ended up being really down and blue. Drowning in bloodshed puddles of pity. Hanging from a tread every second and every minute. Fucking collecting knives and needles. Whatever made the cut. My life was a sad guitar riff struggling to be remembered. I had somehow found my strength in my own darkness, in my own flaws, and in my own suffering. I was protected and no longer adrift. I was no longer just a bad dream. Strumming strings of happiness that disappear like the angels. And they never said goodbye. They just vanished. Away from the light, I was trying to shine on them. It all felt eternal to me. Everyone else seemed to h...