like the end of sad movie

I want to mess it all up.
To take all the things God has blessed me with, thought me worthy of and throw them away.
Screw them up beyond repair.
I want to take that extra forbidden step and cross the line,
I want to make that horrible mistake
And know what I'm doing while I'm doing it.
I want to know that I'll never get any of it back,
That by doing this, by stepping over the line, I'm ruining something really great.
I don't exactly know why, I just know that what's supposed to be good for me, isn't at all what I want.
But then again, I do want it. I want to be happy.
So why then, would I cringe with desire at the thought of messing it up?
Why does my mind race deliciously at the thought of screwing myself over?
Because I want to be happy, at least I think I do, doesn't everyone?
But is happiness so much of an alien-state that we can't bear the fact that our dreams may actually come true?
That we'll no longer have something to complain about, something to burden us.
Because how would we act, how would we be if there wasn't a lacking part in our life?
How would our conversations, our mannerisms even our relationships change,
If there wasn't anything to complain about?
So much of our lives revolve around the fact that we want more, need more, deserve more
That when we get it, we don't even have enough sense to hold on to it.
Or is it that we're afraid?
Afraid of happiness, afraid of putting an end to the chase.
In any case, is that really what we've reduced ourselves to?
Has happiness really become the enemy?