Hope of Happiness

I was hoping to be happy by sixteen. The Friday night football Tending to what I always thought of high school to be: Cheerful, patriotic, outgoing, interesting. However, something always seemed to depress me, to prevent me from my sixteen year old happiness Even the smallest things, And could always throw my unbeat moods Swirling down a dark, uninviting drain of silent depression. I always felt helpless to do anything about it, Like I was walking on a hamster's wheel, Unable to control anything And only able to follow along Praying to God that I wouldn't miss a step Knowing that otherwise I'd fall completely off track; that I'd break down. I felt that because I was unhappy, I'd just have to deal with it To "suck it up" as my friends would say. So obviously, I accepted, pitifully, for a long time that I had no control over my mood, yet I was wrong to do so. What I failed to realize, And still have trouble remembering, is that I have to choose to be happy, And I can't rely on others' actions and attitudes to make me smile.