An essay on sadness

Some days I want to sit and cry

I’m not sad

I’m not sure what I am

My heart is at peace

As peace as it can be

When my anxiety doesn’t take hold of the wheel anyway

Even then I’m not sad

I don’t know what I am

I am

Something else

Someone else

I’m always happy


I’m always quick with a joke or a hint of sarcasm

but some days it’s different

It’s like I’m setting apart or beside myself



What the fuck are you doing?

Why the fuck are you getting upset?

What’s going on?

Some days I just want to sit and cry

I never know why

Do you?

I’ve spent most of my life thinking that I was broken

When all I really am is afraid on most days

Afraid to live

Afraid to let go

Words are what I have

They’re all I have on most days

Writing them down

Rarely speaking them

Always smiling from my silence

It doesn’t mean I’m always sad

The days that I’m with my kids

The days I’m sitting next to my love

The days I grab my skateboard and hit the pavement

The days I stand next to the crashing waves of the ocean

Letting it all go…

I often wonder if there are some of us born with bereaving souls

Something lost in translation to the rest of our contemporaries

Not something missing or broken

but born missing something

or someone

Maybe a place and time

This morning I woke happy

Warm sheets

Her smiling face meeting mine with a gentle kiss

That leviathan of anxiety sat next to me and then resting with great slumber on my chest

My thoughts turned morose

A sullen remorseful numbness found itself resting fiercely between my brow

Robbing me of the joy of my morning coffee

Some days I want to sit and cry

I’m not sad

I’m not sure what I am

but I can’t let it win…

cape dis