I've been listening to James Bay a lot more than I should recently. Inadvisable move, I know. My head always tells me something my heart never wants to follow. James Bay's Bad always makes me cry these days. But then again, most things tend to coat me in this thin layer of melancholic not-sadness nowadays.
I can't stop seeing these deep pools of sadness in me, their surface calm and still, like a mirror, or frozen ice so clear you imagine you can see the bottom of the pool. But the waters are deceptive--one simple mis-step and down I go, all thoughts of resurfacing gone.
It makes me wonder how other people process their emotions. If they feel this much too. If they can't put words to their feelings, and yet feel like it's overwhelming but not really at the same time. It's this thin coating of grief and despair, not really that overwhelming in intensity, but so all-encompassing that it leaves a coating on everything you touch, or see, or feel.
I'm okay. Most days, I am. I laugh, I smile, I joke. There's not an ounce of deceit in my joy.
But when night descends and I'm alone with my thoughts, the sadness covers me like a worn blanket warm and comforting in its familiarity.
That's usually when my masochistic side rears up and start playing songs that reopens the scabbing wounds that time is so frantically trying to heal.
I don't even know what it is I'm grieving, or why this tendency to sink deep into melancholy.
am I grieving the loss of a person?
is it the lack of companionship?
is it losing that magical feeling of being understood?
was it love?
or was it simply lust and jealousy
Sometimes I wish I'm not self-sufficient enough to not need anybody in my life. I want so badly to have it become a need. But my pride stops myself from lying convincingly to myself.
