Happiness is so hard to catch. I have been chasing it all my life, and yet it perpetually evades me. When I was little, I held in in my tiny hands. But something happened that caused me to let go. And my happiness began to run away from me.
 But over the years it just gets faster, and I am growing weaker. I can't even see my happiness anymore. Must I keep chasing it? Something I can't even see? Will I ever even see my happiness again?
 These days, I just sit, waiting for nothingness to take over me. My happiness must be a galaxy away, and still running. How empty I am, and yet I have the nerve to paint a fake smile on my face. An empty, meaningless smile. And each time I paint it my happiness gets farther away from me, and I feel that I have sinned once more. 
 Since when was a smile a sin? I don't remember anymore.
 The happiness that I once held in my hands is long gone, and now a sorrowful loneliness begins to surround me, weighing me down day after day.
 I am blinded now, blinded by the sorrow, the loneliness, the depression. There is absolutely no chance of finding my happiness ever again. In this empty blackness, there is no escape. And the will to even think of escaping has left me forever. 
 So here I wait. Waiting for something else to find me, and keep me in it's clutches.
 For what else am I to do? Surely I have no options. Keep painting smiles and forcing laughter. Somehow I pretend to be happy when I don't even remember what happiness feels like. And yet I feel the most pain when I realize that no one notices anyway. Not even my own family. But this selfishness just proves that I am not worthy to be happy. 
 I am disgusting. Awful. Shameless. Useless. Not even pity can find me. 
 What a despicable person I am.