GASLIGHTING MYSELF INTO BELIEVING THERE’S HAPPINESS

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GASLIGHTING MYSELF INTO BELIEVING THERE’S HAPPINESS

Yeah.
I’m fine.
Say it again.
Maybe it sticks this time.

I fabricate sunlight in a sealed-off skull,
Manufacture serotonin with a counterfeit pulse.
Paint over fractures with glitter and grit,
Convince my reflection it’s better than this.

I rehearse optimism like courtroom defense,
Cross-examine despair till it stops making sense.
Stack little mantras in militant rows,
Salute every lie that keeps morale composed.

“Be grateful.”
“Be grounded.”
“Be balanced.”
“Be whole.”

Meanwhile my ribcage is eating itself slow.

I curate a highlight reel in my cortex,
Crop out the rot with strategic neglect.
Photoshop joy over grayscale days,
Call it perspective — it’s self-betrayal in lace.

I keep gaslighting myself into believing there’s happiness.
Smiling like madness is manageable practice.
I script a narrative — edit the sadness,
Package the panic as personal progress.

I keep gaslighting myself into believing I’m good.
Tell my bloodstream it misunderstood.
Bright little slogans stitched into skin —
Meanwhile the riot is under the grin.

I weaponize gratitude against my own grief.
Tell my insomnia it’s “drive” underneath.
Tell my exhaustion it’s hunger for growth.
Tell my dread it’s a blessing in oath.

Every red flag gets rationalized,
Every warning sign minimized.
I become my own public relations,
Spin doctoring private devastation.

I say “it could be worse” till worse feels tame.
I normalize chaos, rebrand the pain.
Call it resilience. Call it grit.
Call it anything but what it is.

My nerves are sparking like chewed-through wire,
But I label the tremor as “inner fire.”
Heart beating irregular? Nah, that’s ambition.
Mind spiraling? Just intuition.

I’m fluent in self-manipulation.
Masterclass in internal persuasion.

I keep gaslighting myself into believing there’s happiness.
Injecting delusion like chemical catalyst.
Tell my reflection “you’re thriving, relax,”
While something inside me is peeling in half.

I keep gaslighting myself into thinking I’m healed.
Telling my bloodstream the damage ain’t real.
Wrap every fracture in glitter and gloss —
Then wonder why stability feels lost.

I bully my instincts into submission.
Silence alarms with internal attrition.
Take every warning and blunt it to static —
Nah — not static — erase that, scrap it.

I numb the sirens with curated noise,
Convince myself I still feel joy.
I stage-manage mood like a pageant display,
Award myself trophies for “getting through days.”

I narrate collapse like it’s character building.
Call emotional hemorrhage “ego shedding.”
Tell my gut it’s dramatic, overreacting —
Meanwhile the pressure’s tectonic and cracking.

I split into spokesperson and victim at once,
Deliver the briefing while swallowing blunt
Truth after truth I refuse to confront.

I’m not okay.

But I can make it sound convincing.

You ever fake stability so long
Your body forgets what stable means?

I do.

I choreograph breathing patterns
So panic won’t surface in public.
Convince my own pulse we’re winning.
Convince my own mind we’re aligned.

But late — when the mask slips crooked —
I know.

I’ve been selling myself survival
As if it’s fulfillment.

I’ve been confusing numbness
With peace.

I’ve been gaslighting myself
Into believing there’s happiness
Because admitting there isn’t
Feels more dangerous
Than the lie.

Yeah.
I’m fine.

Say it again.

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