I Talk to Myself

It was fine in the morning, at least I felt it was. It was. It truly was.
Or was it just so in my head?
What was that [i]bug[/i] in my head really? Was it...normal to feel a tiny burst of delight, and that too for no reason other than to...[i]wake up[/i]? Could it be that I was deceived by a transient state of mind [i]then[/i]?
Or am I delusional [i]now[/i]?
Could I really know better tomorrow? But I tell myself that every day. And yet I'm still clueless when tomorrow arrives and breezes past me, and I think to myself that the next day would bring me answers. Then the next day arrives and wears on, and again, in monotony, I tell myself "tomorrow will be better".
Hope seems like a petty disguise for [i]unmistakable[/i]...indisputable misery.
All is lost.
Or maybe not. Maybe, [i]this[/i] state of mind is a delusion. Maybe it [i]is[/i] joy that is in plain sight and I fail to see it now. I could see it a few hours back. It was there. But what if...[i]that[/i] delusion wore off and what I [i]now[/i] see is real.
Who is to say which is which.