It's not the night before christmas and I'm unhappy.
Unhappy about parents who got married because
the *** the had made them believe they were in love.
Unhappy that my dad calls me a spoiled brat for
telling him the truth about ***** woman being a pain
in my *** *****.
Unhappy because I over heard ***** woman laughing
telling her friend she got pregnant on purpose to trap
my stupid dad to get money.
You try telling an old man with graying hair and who
is getting fat his young ***** is a greedy ***** who
don't love him.
Unhappy because my dad never told me I was having a brother.
Unhappy because my mom got hurt but now she's
as bad as dad dating men she meets off the internet.
Unhappy because I'm 18 and had a kid after band camp.
Unhappy because I had to take a year off school.
Unhappy because christmas is coming and I don't care.
Unhappy because dad thinks he can buy me stuff thinking
buying me stuff takes the place of a dad.
I don't care about college anymore or what happens
after I graduate from high school.
There is no such thing as love.
There is no such thing as happy marriages.
There is no such thing as dads who give a **** about
kids they don't live with anymore.
There is this thing called me never getting married.

Not the unhappy everyone talks about.
Not just the lonely unhappy.
Not just the unaccomplished/unmotivated unhappy.
Not just the loveless unhappy.
Not just the careless unhappy.
Not just the “let down” unhappy.

I wish there was a way to better exert the meaning of what I’m feeling.
It’s the unhappy that makes me ***** before each occasion.
It’s the unhappy that makes me want to sink into the walls.
I want to break glass, break bone, break the unbreakable.

I want to rip and scratch.
Skin, lips, paper.

It’s like a downward spin that sometimes leaves me pleased…
and other times incredibly hollowed.
There aren’t any solid memories that explain why I’ve gotten so sad.
I do remember when it started though, or at least when I was old enough to understand it was not a good feeling.

Five.

Five years old.
Sitting alone in the heater room where my “tea table” was set up.
Tweety bird tea set.

I remember thinking about grown-ups and all that they do.
I remember not wanting to be a child anymore.
I’d get mad when someone interrupted my thoughts.
That was the first time I remember being depressed.

I’ve been depressed since,
but depression is a very small part of unhappiness…
or whatever it is that’s been sloshing around in my gut since age five.

All I know is that it escalates.
It always has and now I’m very afraid that it always will.

The known unhappy
cannot infuse its poison
on the unknown happy
because the known unhappy
is merely doing what known unhappys' do
miseries need company as the known unhappy knows
and the known unhappy will always be searching for victims
so know that the known unhappy is already known as unhappy
and all the known unhappy does is because its knows its unhappy
so feel pity for the known unhappy and grace your unknown happiness
For real happiness emanates from within and that's unknown to known unhappiness
for its known that it cannot find happiness, its unknown