Is sadness a choice?

Sadness is a choice, you said. I wish it is, sadness, I wish it is a choice. I wish I could wake up one day feeling super happy and go like, “I am kind of bored with this feeling of joy; I shall squeeze my heart to suffocation and cry for three days.”

This is an actual conversation I had with a friend, a dear friend, I must say. I usually am quick with shutting people out, especially if they talk about mental health as a choice, but he’s such a dear friend, and it upsets me so much that he doesn’t understand. I do not feel sad by choice; I do not like being sad. Sad is not healthy for me. Sad is painful.

I wish it is, though. I promise you, if it were a choice, you would never see me so much as frown. Hell, I would delete this whole blog. If sadness is something I can pull in and out of a magic hat, I would pull it out and feed it to my friend’s stray cat who ate its children, twice.

I wish I can be normal, be worthy of you. But I am not, normal, and I am trying so hard but I am failing. And I am sorry.

I wish I could stop whatever I am feeling and go back to whatever I used to be, or whatever you want me to be. I wish I could turn this off, sleep it away, close my eyes, and when I open them, I only feel peace in my heart and warmth in my soul.

It is back. I feel anxious, a lot, and I lost my safe space. My anxiety is terrible these days, and I do not know how to fight it. I am trying my best, believe me. But the fear in my heart and pain in my bones make it so hard to be normal, and I am sorry.

I am sorry I am not the friend you expected, I try. I know I dramatize everything; I make things so much bigger than they are. I know I am over-sensitive and easily triggered, and I know I am a crybaby. And I’m sorry, but all I want for now is someone to hold me tight and hug me to sleep. I am sorry for being so needy.

I keep asking you to wait on me, but you have every right not to. Nobody wants someone that brings the group down; nobody really wants a sad friend.

I won’t ask you to wait on me, or understand me, anymore. You can leave; it’s okay; please do leave if you feel so uncomfortable, if I have upset you in any way. It is okay; you do not have to feel bad for me. I know you love me, or at least loved me before my drama, but you can leave.

I’ll get through this; choice or not, I have to get through this. It doesn’t seem like God wants me any time soon, so I’ll have to fight it, whatever it is.

Thank you for sticking by for as long as you could. I appreciate you.