The worst kind of sadness is a remote kind - somewhere deep enough that it’s hard to acknowledge exactly what it is, yet present enough to have a very real and lasting impression. It’s there all the time, changing things, making you feel things - bad, sad and miserable things
The worst kind of sadness is like a cloud blocking the sunlight, because it is not painful in the same way that a very forceful course of action like a papercut in the webbing between your fingers or a blow to the jaw is. It is painful in the way that a thunderstorm keeps you inside, when everything beautiful you know is outside.
The worst kind of sadness isn’t an event, or a moment, it’s a state of being.
I’ve always been good at hiding my feelings. At best, I’m a glossy veneer over a brittle piece of wood, at worst I’m inconspicuous enough for people not to wonder. And for the most part, my life has been like that too, my problems hidden beneath a layer of gloss, paint and high-shine spray - just enough for me to be able to ignore them, or keep them on the very edges of my periphery where they aren’t calling me, telling me to feel upset. But what do you do when that goes away? When time wears away that fake veneer, or circumstances change and you run out of things to keep you distracted and sane.
It’s a jarring and terrible state of being, when the things you spent years relying on to distract you from everything that is wrong with you is taken away. To live in a world that hinges on distraction is dangerous, it’s unsustainable because we are bound inevitably to run out of things to keep us from feeling ourselves.
Maybe we’ll be reminded of things in the evening, after a draining day that leaves us too exhausted to think about anything else. Then we’ll try to sleep it off, a part of us hoping that we never wake up so we can avoid the reality of the evening before. But we will wake up, earlier than we want to. We’ll get up at 6 in the morning when we wanted to sleep all day and our hearts will puncture at the sight of sunrise because it’s all real, and it’s happening all over again.
I’m feeling like I’m about to go mad again, at a time when I least wanted to. Because things don’t seem so bad. Actually, for the first time in a long time things aren’t meant to be bad at all. But nothing mattres, because this is the worst kind of sadness. The kind of sad that makes the beautiful seem putrid and the putrid seem normal. Because whatever we do we can’t escape the shadow that is cast over us - too big a cloud and too small a sun. And we know there’s something wrong, when we would rather sleep, and sleep forever rather than wake up.
But I just can’t run away from it. In a world where cars are fast and planes fly high, we can still never run away from ourselves. No. This is the worst kind of sadness, and the only thing to do is to find something to distract ourselves from everything. Inside and out.