I'm happy.
Life is good, great, fantastic even!
I have a cute boy who likes me, I know that I have a college I can go to next year, my family and I are getting along, I'm motivated in school, life is awesome.
So why is there this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach?
The one that makes me hold my breath, knowing that if I so much as blink, it will all be gone.
It's really not even paranoia, just a matter of time.
The really sick part?
It will be my fault.
I mess things up. Always have, always will. I'm afraid to be happy. Afraid of success and of love. Because the second you surrender, and let yourself truly be happy, you're practically giving the universe permission to take it away.Even if fucking up is stupid, at least it's within my control.
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