Sometimes
Someone told me once that my eyes reflect some sort of sadness. A pure loneliness that he can't quite understand. He asked me why can someone be surrounded with so many people be that lonely.
So I turned and stared. I explained my sadness by telling him that that's just the way I am. I am not quite sure why I was still hoping that someone will understand this sadness that envelops me all the time.
It's like being trapped in a snow ball without snow or anything. Just me and the glass. The feeling of being exposed to the world too much has inflicted me so much sadness.
I'd like to say that it's called melancholy. There is a natural softness to it. Being melancholic means possessing beauty means being sad.
I don't know when can I stop being sad. Maybe at the end of this all-- I can be happy.
Someone told me that I should stop caring for what people might say if I finally choose to be happy. Maybe I am used to being unhappy that it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. I was happy when I painted my own unicorn paper mache and I was 24 then.
Maybe my happiness can be like the happiness of a 4 year old child. Maybe it doesn't take a lot for me to grasp happiness.
Someone told me that I am lucky that my happiness belongs to a child. That I can easily turn up with a smile. I can be the girl with sad eyes but with a happy smile.
I have to grow up sad and maybe I am just waiting to be happy. How would I know what it takes to have happy eyes?
I've grown with this pair and I won't change it for anything else.
So for that someone who took the time to stare and tell me something I already know. Yes, I have sadness in me and I don't know how to make it go away.
Maybe, Sylvia Plath and I have the same sentiments. Sadness is a very different kind of place to be in and sometimes you just get lost in it for a very long time.