Happy?

When I laugh and smile when I'm with you am I happy?, am I free or is it just a cover up for me to show the world I'm ok?. When I'm with you, am I myself or am I the person you know me as? Am I happy? Am I happy when I write, when am I ever happy? I come from a good home, as people might see, but I got bruised and scarred by it. Am I living or am I just existing? Am I even breathing, or am I seeking for oxygen cause I'm suffocating? Am I happy when I'm with you, or are you just my escape from reality? Do "you" even exist?