Conversations

ii.

         "You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you every morning since I first met you in the coffee shop on 23rd street, that you wear your sadness so well. It’s beautiful.”

         “Oh do I really? Well, I have news for you, my sadness isn’t a dress that I slip into for cocktail parties or business gatherings. I don’t drape it across my body in the hopes of attracting men – especially those like you.”

         “I know, I know, but sadness is such an attractive thing in girls.”

         “It’s really not and anyone that thinks it is has never truly experienced the overwhelming and consuming feeling of hollowness that comes along with it. Sadness is absolutely chilling. It eats people up and spits them out, leaving behind nothing but ghosts of who they used to be. A sad girl is not a romantic object for you to play with when you’re bored or lonely; she’s a girl and she’s full of sorrow and one day that unwelcomed sorrow is going to rip her apart limb by limb if you don’t stop treating her like something beautiful because of that sadness.”

         “You’re being ridiculous. The sad girls are always the pretty ones, their sadness makes them pretty.”

         “No, it doesn’t. Sadness will never determine someone’s value because it’s nothing but an ugly, miserable thing that lurks in the corners and hides under beds. There’s nothing beautiful about that or what it makes people do, how it makes people feel.”

         “Then how come so many people are sad? If sadness is so terrible, then how come the world is full of it? Answer that one, Sherlock.”

         “Because sadness is a widespread disease and there’s not a cure. So please don’t treat someone who is sad or depressed like a beautiful thing, because they’re not. They’re human and wretched and breakable and they have an incredible need to be loved, just like everyone else, but that doesn’t mean they want you to love their sadness. Just love them."