Wonders

Sadness

Sometimes the sadness is so familiar, it becomes my only comfort. It's consistent when nothing else is. How am I supposed to heal? How am I supposed to love? When this world was never built for-could never handle-my joy. At the least, the sadness is always there. Lingering by, even on the days where it's a little easier to pretend it isn't.

It creeps up on me, turns every laughter into a sob and every speck of happiness into a cluster of sadness. But I know it's coming. In a moment where I feel content, I know it'll hit me, I can never dodge it, but I anticipate it now, I can prepare for it so every blow feels numb. Yet I'm not sure if that's any better. I cannot make up my mind whether I prefer to feel nothing at all or to feel more than my mind can handle. To feel nothing is to not live but to feel too much is to live in pain.

It is a dilemma I'm faced with daily, and I choose sadness every time. Because I know it like the back of my hand. I know each form it takes and all its tricks. It can no longer fool me. The sadness has become my friend, I'm attached to it. We are one and the same. To give up sadness is to give up me.

Who am I without it?