Sweet Mother Misery

You are enjoying it. Every time you frown, every time you sigh, every salty tear you shed, deep, deep down inside, you are enjoying it.
It makes you feel deep. It makes you feel sorry for yourself. It makes you feel good and kind. It makes you feel anything.
You are enjoying it. Every insult, every boring job you take, every time you feel so stressed out and tiered you feel like you are simply going to lay down and die, every time you girlfriend cheats on you, ever time it hurts like hell, there is this itsy bitsy part of you that’s saying: “Oh yeah! Give it to me baby!”
You are enjoying it. Otherwise you would stop. You either wouldn’t do the things that make you miserable, or you wouldn’t let the things you have to do get to you.
Or you would simply tone it down a bit. You wouldn’t fuss about having no girlfriend, no money, no car, no friends, no joy in life. If you really wanted any of those things you would stop complaining and find them. But instead you just make these pathetic little attempts to make yourself happy, and the moment something goes wrong, you run right back into the lap of your dear, sweet, old mother misery.
Because you are enjoying it. So stop complaining and enjoy.

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