Happiness or the Lack Thereof

What if a lifetime of unhappiness has left me with a deep seated love for tragedy?

What if a decade of daydreaming about what happiness looks like has left me unsatisfied with anything less then the fairytales I’ve made in my head?

What if I’m marked with the same dark self destruction that runs through my parents’ veins, unable to fight for the betterment of self even if that means hurting the ones I love?

I love him, and he’s way better then any daydream that I could think up and so why do I feel like we’re falling apart when we’re doing just fine?

Why do I push him away when he treats me like gold?

Why am I begging him for security that he doesn’t owe me after only a year?

Why do I give him a chance to walk out and leave every other day?

And why does he stay?

I’m a bomb with a timer.

The product of hate and addiction and secrets and trauma and infidelity and violence.

I’m a sinking boat, so why doesn’t he jump ship?

Or a better question would be why am I unable to love the ship I'm in, in the way that he has?

Why haven't I learned to enjoy the sail even if it's a little bumpy at times?

This ship has been through a lot, but she still runs and she's still great, so why am I so incapable of loving her that I'm having a hard time believing that someone else does?

If someone is willing to love this ship, dents and scratches and all, then why would I try to stop them?

If someone is willing to love me, scars and insecurities and all, then why would I try to stop them?