I’m sad and I don’t know why. I cry at random times of the day, sometimes at two in the morning, other times immediately when I wake up. And that’s not even the worst part about it. The worst part is trying to explain to friends exactly how you feel. When you say you’re sad, they dismiss it or shrug it off as if it’s just a bad case of colds you could cure with multivitamins and a lot of water. If only it were that simple.
If only every single morning wasn’t a struggle to wake up to, the rest of the day not seen a battle I have to brave. If only getting up wasn’t too painful and getting out of the room such a Herculean task.
I’m running out of things and people to blame for being sad, so maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the reason why I’m sad, who I am and who I’m not. Maybe it’s me who’s in the way of everything else. And it’s not that things and people don’t make sense. It’s that I don’t make sense to the world and I’m this blip in the universe everyone could do without.
Why doesn’t anyone like me? Why do people always have a reason to say why they like me? If they like me because I’m smart and have a sense of humor, does that mean that they will find me horrible when I run out of jokes to say and I forget everything I know? When they tell me I’m their favorite person because I’m a great friend, what good am I on my bad days when I can’t be a friend even to myself?
It’s a tricky thing, sadness. Most would tell you it’s a choice. I agree with that. But sometimes it’s not a choice between happiness and sadness. Sometimes it’s between sadness and death. So what do you do? You choose to be sad until there’s a choice to be happy. And until then, you need to repeat only one thing over and over again: Courage, dear heart.