I do not like to be sad. I do not like to be sad, especially around the presence of company. To be sad is to have hoped for something you did not get, to want something you cannot have, to have been let down. Sadness is to be vulnerable, and in my own power-consumed mind, weak. Sadness is for sad girls, who were not deemed worth it, who could not pull through, who could only sit and think instead of get up and do. Who let their hearts fall under the control of another. Instead, when I feel that wet towel of blue begin to tug itself over me, I turn it into one of two emotions much easier for me to swallow. If it can be, I'll grab hope and pin it to my chest and talk myself happy again. Happy is light, it is aggressive in the best way, it makes things happen. The other, anger, is where I turn when the sadness demands to be felt as a negative emotion. Where sadness is passive, weeping, anger is red hot and blazes through what would be pathetic teary eyes. Anger is ready, anger is cunning, anger gets even and does not buckle under any weight. For a girl like me, who refuses to sit, who refuses to trip and clutch to another coat sleeve ever again, it must be this way always. Never cry, it screams, do not melt under the heat of breath, they were not worth it, you will fix it, you must be strong. You are not her, or them, you are not helpless and lying by the door.
Well, healthy? No.
But it's better than being sad.