An unhappy shell of myself is what I fear to become.

The day the smile falls from my face may be the day I die.

I don't know how I'll become an unhappy shell of myself,

But I know it won't be soon.

I don't want to become that of my nightmares.

An unhappy shell of myself wallowing in pain.

I will try with all of my might not to fall that low.

The people that drag me down,

Will fall flat when they find their words and glares

Cannot penetrate me,

Foiling their unconscious plans to create an unhappy shell of myself.

There will never be an unhappy shell of myself,

Because I will not allow it.

I will shut down all things that will ruin what I have,

Or I shall find a way to deal with it.

But nothing will ever push me int to an unhappy shell of myself,

 Because that is not what I want out of life,

And when I want something hard enough,

I work to preserve what I have.

So in conclusion,

I deduct that my fear of becoming an unhappy shell of myself,

Is only a fear.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.