Why

Does being unhappy make someone a bad person? There are times when our emotions can be so overwhelmed with hatred and it's just so dark you can't differentiate whether you are simply depressed or you are just plain evil. I see everyone as they are, but they don't see me. Is depression a route that never ends a straight path that just keeps on going? How hard is it to recover? Do I have to entirely depend on pills after pills to keep my energy up? By the end of the day, sometimes I feel like I am so pumped up full of chemical, medicines in my body it disgusts me. It's hard to believe that there is anybody out there who loves me as I am. Maybe it's because I don't even like myself very much. Sometimes it is as though I can never be happy. In the first place I will get so depressed I won't get something, and when I do get it, I get so paranoid that I might loose it. I guess it is why I can't own something for a long time. I tend to loose them one way or another. If I die tomorrow, I'll go with a smile on my face; I'll laugh while I lay in my casket. I'll mock the stupidity of people around me. Nothing is lost, nothing is at stake. I leave this place as I arrived, I have given the world nothing, that is what I intend to keep up as time goes by. It's becoming more apparent day by day that I have lost complete interest in most of what I usually like to do. I start to hate the thought of having to do anything else besides staying in my room and mourn over the little things that happen; maybe I am just drawn to feeling this way. Enthusiasm is hard to come by for me; I don't get excited about the little things in life anymore. It's like I can't make out or prioritize my life anymore, at least what's left of it. I lay awake half way through the night and bother to tell everyone I slept. I am a burden for my family, along with depression I contribute nothing but take and take. My father gets bored of me most of the time because I can't seem to get like every normal person. I am the burden and I know that and I never argue. I lost track of the point, sometimes I think that the silver lining everyone talks of is a lie. I can't see my silver lining. I feel like I can't even try to face my problems sometimes I feel like I am paralyzed, numb from top to bottom, my brain is a pile of rock, useless and heavy. It's a shame that life can't offer a magic cure for depression but its ironic how it comes to me. The whole idea of self loathing is like truth embodied in metal. Many can't see the beauty in the distortion of truth but I do, why shouldn't we lie when the beauty of it is so apparent? I have friends who love me, but I wish I have one who gets me. The difficult truth is that no one can ever understand the way you really feel. This puts a new perspective on the whole soul mate thing because to me it is a person who understands you whole heartedly and not some fake who says they do. Sometimes it is an incredibly beautiful gesture for me for someone to simply acknowledge the truth that they can never understand the pain I am going through. Some beautiful lies are so distorted that the hideous truth becomes transparent. No matter how hard I try I can't grab a hold of a time in myself that I was happy. I wish I had one. I wish I can be a good person. I wish I can walk around and be happy for the other people I see walking around. I want to be happy for the little children whose parents are still together. I want to be able to look at everyone and not think to myself that everything is as good as it seems. My I wish list will never end, satisfaction is torture. Everything is torture, my feelings aren't recognized, and that's tortured. I can't get who I am across to other people and that's torture. I don't see love in this world, everything is deadly and wrong. Everyone talks about black, white and grey area but I don't see it. As far as I am concerned the only thing I see is black. And it's so dark that I don't think that it should even be thought of as a color. I want to write like no one has ever done it before, I want to convey every thoughts and feelings beautifully with perfect wordings and I want people to understand me. I want to be accepted and not because I make the right friends I want to be loved despite everything. I want to be loved because I am depressed, because I need it. I want it because if I don't my life is empty. There is nothing more beautiful than to be a depressed and confused little girl”hopeless and helpless. It's a shame that there isn't a lot out there. Poor little tortured artist, with her feelings wrapped up in a blank piece of paper, watch her as she replaces her tears with words.
The façade of my happy life will come to a tragic end soon enough just when I feel I have had enough of this pain. Happiness is an ongoing battle, sometimes I wonder if it's even worth fighting for. I have pretended for so long its becoming a habit, a bad one it almost seems impossible to break. I'm just a faulty representation, full of hate, anger and sadness; how can a person consumed by such force is still worth to be alive? How can someone who has completely cease to appreciate the beauty of life, be worthy of this world? The depression is so powerful I can almost taste the blood, the sweat and the energy I put into it everyday of my life. All I am is a spoiled brat, unappreciative of her fortune.

I have everything I can ask for and I am still unhappy. Why?