I am always longing for a fresh new start because honestly everything I do is never enough and how I wish I was good enough but I never will be. And at this point I’m not sure whether adulting is hard or being me is hard. I always found myself chasing for a new feeling when things weren’t going good. The idea of chasing after something always feels better than the actuality of accomplishing it.
I don’t remember when was the last time I feel genuinely happy. Was is when I was in my mom’s uterus? Or was it when I first celebrated my birthday party? I don’t really remember but God knows how much I miss being that happy, where I don’t need to pretend or fake it.
Is there still a little piece of happiness left for me? Is it me being ungrateful or life being unfair?