oh how you run from me

I find myself running frantically through this world.

like I'm standing in the middle of a thousand people and it all just passes me by.

and I convince myself that I despise them for their stupidity and simplicity, but inside, I secretly envy them.

They've seemingly found the secret of happiness.

and they're satisfied with their boring silly little lives.

Aristotle famously declared, "happiness depends upon ourselves", and I've thought about this often.

I don't know anymore whether I sabotage my own happiness or if the world around me does.

I'm resigned to the fact that happiness evades me and that every decision I make is in some way wrong and will not lead me to the desired result.

Why am I so scared?
so alone.
falling short.