I feel sad.
It’s not very often that I take time to assess how I’m feeling.
But, today, I felt an abnormal desire to occupy my mind with things that make me happy: an extra five minutes in bed, a glass of orange juice in the morning, videos from my favourite youtubers, an apple cider at lunch, good music while I get dressed, a doughnut and a romantic comedy in the afternoon and cuddling with my cat.
The thing is, after all that, I still felt quite sad.
And when I feel sad, I have the horrible tendency to desperately search the reason why.
And then I conveniently start to overthink the matter and I end up over exaggerating everything that’s wrong with my life.
As a result, I become even sadder.
And to top it all off, I’ve always been such an easy weeper.
That’s when I usually tend to shake up whatever I’m thinking and get on with my life, until the next time I feel depressed again.
Not today though. I stopped myself from shaking off those feelings and I let them sink in.
What’s wrong with being sad?
I know every reason why (although not every solution they require) and some are, predictably, out of my hands. But that’s quite a common predicament, isn’t it?
Although I live in a world filled with injustice and unkindness far worse than the ones I get to experience in my daily life, I’m still allowed my sadness and my worries. Because I’m human and emotions are what makes us who we are. Why then should I feel ashamed of not feeling happy?
All this to say, I’m sad. And that doesn’t mean that tomorrow I will be.
But, if by chance, I find myself again on the verge of shaking my sadness off my shoulders, I will let it rest and “comfort” me for as long as she deserves it.
Because, after all, she’s part of what I’m made of too.