The more I learn about myself, the more I’m convinced that I am one of those people whose identity is built around sadness. Whether these be sad feelings, memories, or events happened to myself or to someone else, or whether these are just sad things I imagine really doesn’t matter. I seldom imagine great, amazing things and I guess this makes me a “dark” individual… To me, sadness is a feeling that is present always. This is no doubt a bi-product of my inability to stay “in the moment.” If I am really happy, I may feel sad because I wasn’t happy yesterday, or this time last year, or I might not be happy next year, or something might come along and muck it all up. People like me, who have so far in life been unable to just live in the present, really have a hard time not being sad about something.
Today I spent the greater part of an otherwise productive day sad that I didn’t work somewhere else, wishing I had some amazing job that left me feeling warm and fuzzy and still remarkably well paid. I was sad because I sold my soul to the devil, because I’m doing it for the money. I know it wouldn’t be called ‘work’ if we didn’t do it for the money… There is another name for that, oh.. it’s called a HOBBY! When I came home, still echoing that “woe is me, what am I to do with myself?” tone, I let my boyfriend tell me that, not everyone gets to do what they love for a living…and I let my stubborn ass remind him that I can’t continue doing this… and I have to be one of the few people who gets to do what they love. Only thing is, I haven’t figured out what that is exactly. The good news is that people really seem to enjoy reading about sad/tragic things that happen to people, and that, with a little determination, I could turn all the things that have made me sad into literature for the enjoyment and commiseration of all. Yay. Let the world benefit from my dark side.