i prefer a room filled with darkness over a lighted one. i can’t think under the sun, it yells and screams and forces itself to be noticed. The heat suffocates me.
But when it rains, nature is nourished. When it rains, the sky stops pretending to give off all this energy that it truly doesn’t contain, it takes a deep breath and says “okay, okay, I’m sad.”
And crys.

i hear all kinds of people talking about happiness like its the only answer, the ultimate goal.
But to me it just seems like an act.
my happiness isn’t like most people’s happiness. My happiness isn’t a smile, or a wink
Or a giggle or a chirp
Or a high-five or a holler. Those things don’t appeal to me. my happiness is a gaze. A symphony of violins. A sunset. Silence.
my happiness always has this hint,
although sometimes very faint,
of sadness