Sadness, Striped


Every so often, I get sad.
I let it happen because I am human and alive and that’s part of the deal.

Sadness is a natural variation in the spectrum of human experience, it happens. And when it does, that doesn’t mean it defines you. It is part of you but it is not you. Black stripes on white.

For some though, sadness is something more. So familiar it isn’t noticed, so suppressed is it obscured from view. It is the baseline on which everything else is layered. White stripes on black.

When I feel it, I wonder:
How far down does my sadness go- is it who I am or what I feel now?
and if it runs deep, with black underneath, then can I change it anyhow?

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