Recovery

Sadness

My therapist tapped her pen, and looked at me with her chin in her hand, frustration filled the room. "I think you enjoy being sad." 

There was a silence for a minute or two, because there was a small conflict in my mind, no I don't enjoy this sadness. Yet it's the only time I feel alive, because it's the only goddamn time I feel something. When your bones feel so heavy and every breath you take you feel like you're breathing just to die, and when you need to talk to yourself for a good 30 minutes after you wake up just to get the motivation to move, sometimes feeling something, a cut on the wrist, a tear on your cheek, a cry in the middle of the night, it means more. It means that you're actually alive, because most of the time I feel like I'm dead. I wish I was dead. Sadness means I'm not dead.

 "No I don't."