Ghosts of Journals Past

There's something depressing about listening to your favorite songs.

You feel understood by a complete stranger, but you don't even understand yourself.

It's so difficult to tell people who you are when you don't know yourself.

People say you can't love someone until you love yourself, but that seems impossible.

Love seems impossible in general.

Do people really find someone who cares about them the same way they care about that person?

Or is everyone just pretending?

Are people really happy?

I've barely felt truly happy at any point in my life.

I know happiness comes in moments, but sadness comes in waves.

The kind of waves that just keep coming and beating down on you.

Every time you think you can come out of it and catch your breath, another wave breaks on top of you.

But then there's days of calm waters.

Blissfully floating in the salty sea and thinking about nothing.

I think that's happiness.