Sadness isn't just one emotion
it's a blanket
that warms the others
Warm, how unusual
yet all my sadness
is never cold
never cool
I like things that are
cool
and I do not like sadness
no, to me it is warm
uncomfortably so
as though lit by the fires of a hell I don't believe in
a torment in false hopes
hope that is so warm
just like sadness
which is like
hope and despair
seasoned with twinges of guilt
and anxiety
like the horrid blush that comes
when you've done something naughty
burning so hot you fear your face
will melt
that is what sadness feels like
to me
wretched and horrid and never enough shame
So silly, to think there's something that ought to go with it
as though sadness itself were not enough
perhaps they were right
you can become addicted
to a certain kind of sadness
like a drug of sorts
a chemical cocktail you brew in your mind
to douse your feelings when you don't want them
because sadness is safe
it's familiar
and you know how to deal with it
so you think
even as it eats you alive from the inside
you think you can control it
that you can stop whenever you want
and that's the lie of it
because
sadness
isn't just sadness
it's everything else we don't need
don't want
shame
remorse
regret
fear
why hold on to them?
yet I can't seem to stop
it pulls me back
addicted to the drug of familiarity
funny, I think, to be addicted to shame
touted so long as something to shy away from
that regret is not worth the effort
and remorse a thing
to let go of
yet here I am
clasping them in my hands
breathing life to them
when they wither
terrified when they are gone
a curse that I know will return
so why wish for it to leave?
A life can be lived in the warmth
not a good one, albeit
but a life
instead of a lie
an addiction to sadness
rather than
happiness
at least I shall never be disappointed.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Sadness isn't just one emotion
it's a blanket
that warms the others
Warm, how unusual
yet all my sadness
is never cold
never cool
I like things that are
cool
and I do not like sadness
no, to me it is warm
uncomfortably so
as though lit by the fires of a hell I don't believe in
a torment in false hopes
hope that is so warm
just like sadness
which is like
hope and despair
seasoned with twinges of guilt
and anxiety
like the horrid blush that comes
when you've done something naughty
burning so hot you fear your face
will melt
that is what sadness feels like
to me
wretched and horrid and never enough shame
So silly, to think there's something that ought to go with it
as though sadness itself were not enough
perhaps they were right
you can become addicted
to a certain kind of sadness
like a drug of sorts
a chemical cocktail you brew in your mind
to douse your feelings when you don't want them
because sadness is safe
it's familiar
and you know how to deal with it
so you think
even as it eats you alive from the inside
you think you can control it
that you can stop whenever you want
and that's the lie of it
because
sadness
isn't just sadness
it's everything else we don't need
don't want
shame
remorse
regret
fear
why hold on to them?
yet I can't seem to stop
it pulls me back
addicted to the drug of familiarity
funny, I think, to be addicted to shame
touted so long as something to shy away from
that regret is not worth the effort
and remorse a thing
to let go of
yet here I am
clasping them in my hands
breathing life to them
when they wither
terrified when they are gone
a curse that I know will return
so why wish for it to leave?
A life can be lived in the warmth
not a good one, albeit
but a life
instead of a lie
an addiction to sadness
rather than
happiness
at least I shall never be disappointed.
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