I use to believe that fairy tales and dreams were just that; dreams. Imagination. Something that never happens in "real life." Now I have you. You are my fairy tale. You are my dream. 

You are my happily ever after. 

I feel like a plucked flower. Dying. One petal at a time. 

I'm so envious of the people who have their life together or appear to. The ones getting married, having babies, working at jobs they love. I'm envious because I don't know if they will ever happen for me. 

Thinking about my future hurts. What will I do? Where will I live? Will I get married? Will I be happy?

Sadness is my normalacy. Being sad is when I feel like I am truly myself. Being happy or trying to be happy is exhausting. 

Depression is the cozy blanket that I nessle up to. Even though it feels like home. I'm cold. 

One day I hope. I pray. That I'm loved immensely. One day. One day. 

I need help.