i feel sorry for myself, too: a confession

Out of thousands of word in English language, farce would be the perfect word that best represents my life. Me, perhaps. Ha.
I tend to overreact and make (I was telling a truth that end up being) harsh jokes unwittingly (and half meant them) because I was trying to run away from sadness. But it’s a part of me. So, I end up chasing my own tail. I still am actually. Truth is that the sadness is visible once you understood me behind harsh jokes I tell.
Life has been uneasy on me and it is so unfair that I push it towards someone who doesn’t deserve the crap. I know, I know. I’m sorry about it. Also, the one who needs a pity party. And the house would end up being covered with toilet paper and raw eggs.
I am just afraid to be so happy someone will take it away from me once I stepped to another phase of life. And that made me look stupid. You’re happy and then the second you’re not. Anything can wipe away a smile with just a stare. Like how you can tell from a parent’s eyes saying you’re grounded. In a long time, I’ve been wasting my happiness in the wrong way.

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