That Elusive Vixen

I wonder what it is about sadness

 

that makes us fall so hopelessly in love with it

 

or at least the idea of it.

 

Is it the endless inspiration that oozes out of its veins and into our all-too-eager ones

 

drugging our synapses with its cathartic scent

 

and sweet, sweet poison

 

until we are slaves; slaves pouring out the gloomy ink in our hearts onto paper

 

and watching it seep painstakingly

 

into other bright, beating hearts?

 

Or is it the fact

 

that sadness has always

 

always

 

been hovering around

 

and is here to stay

 

to make us feel more human

 

more hero-like

 

less…ordinary…?

 

Or is it simply because

 

sadness is just so

 

darn

 

easy.

 

But have you ever

 

told sadness

 

to take a lunch break

 

and caught a fleeting glimpse of its shy twin?

 

My, it’s getting rarer with every passing sigh, poor thing.

 

Happiness, that elusive vixen.

 

Yes, happiness.

 

Heard of it?

 

Or has your soul been too busy romanticizing itself

 

drowning in its own intricate self

 

to say hello to happiness?

 

To feel its rays

 

nudging their way

 

into

 

every last crevice

 

of your cracked little body

 

and flooding it—

 

no, fucking bombing it

 

with laughter?

 

Yes, laughter.

 

When is the last time you laughed until your body collapsed and your heart flew out of your mouth and laughed right back at you?

 

When is the last time you smiled so wide your teeth crumbled into stardust and your eyes turned into starry, daylit constellations which blinded themselves with their incandescence?

 

When is the last time your bones ached with the pleasure of just being

 

and you stretched them until they finally snapped and exploded into loud, noisy giggles?

 

When is the last time you were truly happy, darling?

 

Or have you forgotten how to be?

 

What with sadness glorifying and being glorified in every nook and cranny of this heartbreakingly human world of ours

 

so that wherever you turn, it’s there, with its all-knowing smirk and irresistible charm.

 

Waiting for you to tiptoe into its alley and make it your eternal muse.

 

Well tough luck, baby, you got to fasten your grit, swallow your tongue and do it.

 

Make sadness understand

 

that you’re too damn beautiful

 

to need

 

to be

 

beautified

 

by its vacant promises and nagging tugs and empty glamour.

 

Shout, Scream, Yell

 

I DON’T NEED YOU TO FEEL EXTRAORDINARY ANYMORE, DAMMIT

 

until your lungs fragment into tiny angry pieces which then

 

inhale the newness

 

the suspiciously happy smell hanging about your body

 

and float back together, broken, but in peace

 

and I promise you, sweetheart, sadness will understand.

 

(it’s not all bad, you know)

So the next time you feel the overwhelming urge to

 

sink

 

into its warm, welcoming embrace

 

squeeze your eyelashes, scrunch up your nose, stuff your fingers into your ears

 

and think.

 

Think of a baby’s tiny fingers curling around your own broken ones.

 

Think of your mother’s effervescent eyes, willing you to stay.

 

Think of that limping dog on the street who just really, really wants you to smile

 

Think of the lines on your father’s forehead curving up every time he looks at your ugly pouting face.

 

Think of your best friend’s bony elbows poking your gut until you can’t help but let that rogue snort escape.

 

Think, my love, think.

 

Because however gorgeous sadness appears to be on the surface

 

of your rawer than raw soul

 

it isn’t worth it.

 

So don’t you worry, little duckie;

 

just lean down and whisper to it

 

we’re going to be happy

 

not okay, not alright

 

Happy.

 

And it will find its song again

 

Someday.

 


Image Source: flickr.com


 

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