When I promised honesty, that wasn’t so much for you as it was a promise to myself. Every single thing I post is a little bit scary to put out there, whether it’s silly, or straightforward, or sad. I’m not sure why I’m being so strict with myself. Well, yes I do. I know that it’s good for me, and I know that writing is missing something when it is written by a person who won’t let you see past their walls. Posting about being sad is the hardest though. Vulnerability… Just the word makes me cringe. It’s so gooey sounding.
It’s easy to write a poem
When you feel something.
When passion rises
Words are cheap.
But when you’re sad
Every word has to battle its way to the surface.
I have nothing to be sad about.
All my needs are met.
I have people whom I love
And who love me.
I have access to all the chocolate I can eat
And the freedom and funds to do so.
I even have the Tao; something I can believe in.
I let go of resentment and guilt.
Yet still
Still there are days
When I am sad
And I can’t
Pin down
Why.
My sister doesn’t get sad.
She told me so.
There are people like that in the world.
There are also people in shitty situations
Who have so much trouble they don’t have time to be sad.
Maybe I’m not being true to myself somehow
Maybe I’ve inherited something
Maybe the happy people are the anomalies
And to be sad is merely human.
Maybe it’s in our nature to strive for more
No matter how much we have.
Maybe I’ll go to sleep
And tomorrow morning
Everything will be rosy again
As it so often is.
For me, the morning really does bring light.
It’s gotten better with age.
I’ve learned coping mechanisms
I’ve learned to express myself
I’ve learned to get exercise.
All these things make a difference.
But I guess there are some things
You can’t completely rub out.
Everything leaves scars.
Sarah D. Silvey 