I am insecure. Always have, always will be.

Yes, I am a very happy person. But a lot goes on inside my head.
I constantly feel like I don’t belong anywhere, but if I don’t belong, then why am I here?
The smile on my face is, indeed, happiness, but that happiness is incredibly flawed.

Covered with cracks. Cracks that are easily prone to breaking. Sending me into a depressed state of mind.

I am, in no way, the person that I come off as. There are many more sides to myself that not even my closest friends know.

I just don’t let people in like that. Sorry. Because that was the way that I became insecure in the first place. And I feel that if I don’t get close to others, maybe, just maybe, this insecurity will disappear.

“It’s working.”

That’s what I tell myself, but, truthfully, it’s not.