Writings from a heartbroken soul

The beauty and appeal of sadness

I can't help but think about how beautiful sadness is.
something inside me has always felt this way.
I used to love the way sadness looked on me.
but even at a young age, I used to draw a lot.
and every person that i drew always had a happy expression. something i envied.
However I love strong emotions.
Sadness only feels sad in the moment but when i'm not sad anymore i can't help but think about how beautiful it is.
what's so beautiful about getting drunk and sobbing your eyes out until at 4:00 AM alone.
Because you convinced yourself that you should kill yourself
What's so beautiful about losing someone you love?
and i'm not sure.
I don't think i'll ever have those answers.
But there's always been something appealing about messed up eyeliner and mascara and curling up into a ball on the floor.
Was this all to cope?
Am i telling myself that sadness is beautiful because i can't stand the thought of how i might look as ugly as i feel when i'm in a constant state of deep despair.
Or is sadness the first stage of happiness.
a sign of hope.
I mean if i've been crying for a while then it must mean i'm alive.
And that i have skin and bones and blood and feelings.
And i've learned that i would much rather feel something too much for a second then feel it for a little bit too long.
This isn't a sacrifice that everyone has to make and I wonder how many people have actually thought about it.
I can go on and on and on for hours about helping bipolar shift my outlook on everything.
But it felt pointless because no matter how sad I get and how close I am to dying.
I will always,
And i mean always.
But I like to think sadess is the most beautiful art piece.