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Once upon a time, I was happy, always.

Once upon a time, life was great.

Once upon a time, I had not a care in the world.

Once upon a time, I was happy, always.

Then,

The happiness faded.

Life, lost it's greatness.

The world stop caring for me, as I did the same to it.

The happiness faded.

Once upon a time, I gave up on myself.

Once upon a time, I was too depressed to get out of bed.

Once upon a time, I'd bring harm to myself because it was the only way to feel some kind of relief.

Once upon a time, I gave up on everything.

Then,

I regained my sense of self.

The depression? Went out the window.

I brought harm to the harm that once harmed me, rescuing myself from further damage.

I regained, my life.

Once upon a time, I'd cry myself to sleep.

Once upon a time, I was happy, always.

Once upon a time, I used to read stories that began with, "Once upon a time,"

Once upon a time, I wished those stories were about me.

Once upon a time, I'd cry, just because.

Now?

I fall asleep with ease.

Being happy, is no longer a thing of the past or, a figment of my imagination.

I write the stories of my present, and only dwell on what once was a "Once upon a time."

My life is story, written by me, for me, and illustrated through me.

I cry. I cry out loud, "Oh joy, I am alive!". I cry tears of happiness. I cry, "My life is mine and mine only," I cry, just because.

I cry, "Once upon a time, a girl was born, she died and then was born again because her spirit refused to remain deceased. And here she is today."

Once upon a time, I was happy, always.

Once upon a time, life was great.

Once upon a time, I had not a care in the world.

Once upon a time, I became happy, and it lasted, always.