My dear depression.

Thursday, 24 February 2011 at 19:54

What would we be, us humans, without the tendency to be gloomy. Our best writers, our best poets, the most poignant writing there ever has been, has been about sadness. People are drawn to grief – personal or other’s. It lets them feel good about themselves.

Other people’s suffering always has a pep to it. A zing, which makes us feel, no matter how horrible it is, for one second- Hey! I’m better!

Even sadness is then, a mere means to an end. The eternal prelude to the thing that really matters – Happiness.

I feel sad for sadness. The poor emotion never had a chance. Unwanted, wished away, blessed against, cursed, a poor substitute for faces wreathed in smiles and hearts which are light. Never valued for the lessons which it gives. The things which are sent to try us, always find us wanting. Wanting less pain, less effort,  more happiness. Give us more of the good stuff – is the shout which goes around.

I rather value my melancholy.  Where would I be, without my bouts of depression and my struggle against despair?

Maybe a happily adjusted young person„ in a happy relationship, waiting for a happy marriage, with a happy job, and a happy future right around the corner.

But then, would I have a life?


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