worthless

there are days I am unable to write anything, just an open book with no words.

I glance at my past wondering if that was my best?

if that sorrow and misery is what made my art so great, that without it I was once again just me.

I wonder if happiness was worth it? when I can't even identify if I am happy or just living without feeling sorrow.

there are days I wish to feel sadness, it had been the only intense feeling I had felt in a long time, and yet I hope to never go back to those dark days that haunted me.

so I just sit here stuck in my own head wondering what could be... a version of me that's better, one that's smarter, a better daughter, a better sister, a better friend, someone who isn't selfish, someone kind... and yet all I am is myself, someone who is considered worthless in my own head.