words lingered
long after every memory blurred
perhaps i really am
chronically unhappy
a little too cold, a little too restless
a little too little for the room i grew in
tried to stand tall but never quite met
the height requirement
to deserve the acknowledgment
tried to climb but there was always
another mountain beyond the mountains
another name above mine
another sky i was meant to reach
until i grew tired, tired of chasing
and then, i was labelled
chronically unhappy
with a heart taught to measure
every tiny triumph, every fleeting joy
against the very next thing that it lacked
always someone ahead, somewhere better
some impossible height i was expected to reach
so i continue to climb, chronically unhappily
mistaking exhaustion for ambition
mistaking silence for strength,
enduring another belittling stare
still i wake with hope
waiting for that day
not for applause or validation
not even to finally be enough
only for the quiet possibility
that perhaps one day
the world will cease to feel like
something that i have to outrun
someday when i realise
i was never chronically unhappy
only chronically trying to be
someone worthy enough
to deserve happiness.
