wallowing in self pity....

am I?

perhaps I really am...
am not sure anymore.

these thoughts are private... or so it seems... perhaps I do have it all writen across my face... the portrait of a emotion-filled being living in misery....

why is it that others who may have the same condition as me are able to live fufilling lives? is it me then who is the one who is not happy with what I have? am i really being ungrateful?
why is it that I feel that all joy had been sucked out of me... left me alone to await my untimely death?
why is it?

perhaps it is only me wallowing in self pity....
perhaps I really do despise being happy for I know not how... and am too afraid to set myself free of the only life I've known... though it's painful... it's still more familiar than a supposedly "happy" life which I know not how to live....

why is it so?