Sadness is addictive, we don't talk about it enough
I grew up sad. I was a sad, depressed kid.
There was no one to teach me how to snap out of it and how to redirect my thoughts or how to not let it run on a loop in my head and how to not subconsciously form an identity around being sad.
I paid dearly for it. Now, at 30, I'm a much happier, healthier person, with a wide variety of hobbies, but at times I can still feel the sadness trying to "seduce" me.
I know it sounds weird when I say that, but I wanted to share what it actually feels like, so I wrote a poem.
A steamy affair with sadness. A tryst with the void.
Rolling around in it for hours, feeding it songs, offering it mood lighting, accentuating it with black-out curtains.
Pursuing sadness with a doggedness akin to that of a mad lover.
And I have to say: it loves me back.
It wraps itself around me in its cold, slithering embrace and makes my toes tingle with anxiety.
It feels terrible. It feels incredible.
It’s an addiction I had to fight tooth and nail, and one that still seduces me.
One that’s always just a song away.
Watching. Observing. Waiting for the day I fall back into its arms again.