'Purpose Of Sadness'

'Purpose Of Sadness'

Everyday Life
Collection Everyday Life

If you want to know what my #sadness is like, I can matter of factly say that it’s anything but #silent. I suppose, if anything, you can call it #reliable, for each #morning when I wake up, it #indefinitely makes a #fuss during what should be a #quiet moment. Then, for what seems like #hours, I flat out deny my #muscles from moving, in #hopes of not getting caught #conscious and #fighting. The tireless aching will surely make known its honest #dedication, reminding me that its #promises will last lifetimes instead of mere moments. Yet, I still try I leave the #overbearing#pain at #home, locking the door twice before I go. And as I drive so #confidently away, my #sadness writes a song that waywardly begins to play the most woeful, #impassioned notes, and tries to pronounce me as its own, planning to #capture me by the #gripping pain in each word, making it so that misery is worth #craving, worth holding on to. #Ashamed, I start to give in, I crave, I clutch it, too. And as expected, the #song#perpetually#loops as it remains #stuck in my #head, though I don’t know where it came from, how it was turned on, or who fervently sang it. #Frustrated, I get out of the car, away from my sadness #tormenting me, but even while #walking, I find myself singing that #intoxicating song through my grinding teeth. I hurry to hide, but the pavement misleads me into the #trapping arms of my sadness that I can no longer bear, this place also known as a pocketed nowhere, not very far. The nowhere #located inside each and every bar. And as I start to suffocate in such a #confined and #miserable space, I shake and hug my knees, crying under a lightbulb sporadically flickering. The light tries to withstand the suffering, I can see, but slowly, it’s dying. Or maybe that’s just me. Any effort was useless because when it finally went out, the villainous music found new life, another safe spot to cruelly occupy, making my heart race even more this time. I #choke, #immediately recognizing those tearful notes, louder and louder, with a strong echo. However, there are no longer words, as it’s coming from a single violin being played by an #unknowable#silhouette. My sadness does not make #sense all I really know is that this is a slow disaster with a melody that I find myself lost in. It prides itself in ruining what I find beautiful, like manifesting itself in a violin. I want to always hear that song it's rhythm and tone move me, but its all a clever trick my sadness is far from soothing. Some days, my sadness doesn’t even hide I will see it in shapes, creating #dark#shadows sitting under door frames, slamming things shut when it starts getting late. On winter nights I hear it coming down in rain, #dismantling the idea that rain is supposed to be cleansing, like how in books and movies it helps those in need of saving. It’s heartbreaking, because I have needed saving for so long now that I don’t know much else. For me, the rain that drenches me isn’t at all redeeming, it’s a constant rude awakening stemming from nothing deserving, but can still find power to be so loud that I must run for cover as it tries to force me into drowning. This feeling is that pounding. Now, the violin starts again, bow softly kissing strings when strings seem as if they’re calling. I am as #vulnerable and #obvious as them my #life goes in circles while I spin. My sadness surrounds me, it #overpowers me. I try to escape but it owns me, I solemnly have accepted that the rain can’t be stopped so easily, that the music can’t be hushed by throwing myself into a busy crowd in hopes that my sadness won’t catch me, or that if I am always moving, the noise can’t haunt me. My sadness makes no ragtag mistakes it is an expert at precision. It has never asked for #permission, yet it is the #voice that makes my every waking decision. There’s no way not to listen.

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