Shorts

Emotions

       Sadness is a strange thing to me. It can rack my thoughts in the middle of a laugh, it can stop me mid-sentence in the middle of fighting. It comes in the worst and best of times, and yet it is my friend. It is something I have known for many years, something that has cradled me at night and in broad daylight, seeking my forever attention. It brings its friends with it, and they all hold hands, surrounding me with familiarity. If I am alone, I will close my eyes, and I will talk to them. My friends. I will tell them everything bad about my day or I will rediscover memories that encourage them. They take my words and bury them with tears, and then they will make me better. When they leave, so do the bad things, temporarily. They will coax me to listen to music, music that they sing with me. It isn't always sad music. Their favorite song is Dear Insanity. They tell me that it describes the way I feel. The way they make me feel.
       "Welcome to the diary of a man who lost his mind so long ago."
       "I search for solace in this toxic land of sin."
       "We walk this road for hours and hours."
       These are all lines I understand. My metaphysical friends are the embodiments of those words, and it is the truth. Sometimes I feel that there would more peace had I tried to stop keeping my madness in check years ago. Had I let my thoughts roam free, my imagination, the way I wanted to be in life. I wouldn't have to worry myself with unnecessary things. Everything that makes me happy could've come from my mind. There are some things today that still do. I see my Friends as real people, with faces and words. Sadness is gentle, always around, and always misunderstood. I see sadness as a He, with no name other than Sadness. He always tells me that things are survivable. He tells me that words won't kill me, but I had the ability to decide that for myself.
       Madness is a She. She stand behind me, with her lanky pale arms always embracing me. She whispers funny things into my ears. She tells me that the normalcy of society is an illusion, and that chaos is the only manageable thing in this world. It is the only thing that we cannot corrupt. I love her eyes. They are always the color I want to see, always my favorite colors.
       Anger is also a She. She is the one who tells me every truth, reveals to me the way people are inside. She tells me with her fire-eyes that words are a weapon, that humans are always insinuating one thing or another just for power and to put people down. She is a shadow, always slipping in between Sadness and Madness and I. She is like our mother, taking care of and fueling all three of us.
       Numbness is a He. He is completely silent, and can relieve me of my troubles in a few moments. He lets my mind drift to blank places, to sit and calm down. He doesn't like the way my other Friends act, he prefers serenity and silence.
       My Friends visit me often, not everyday. Sometimes I'll be in bed, and they'll all curl up around me on my bed and sing me to sleep. When I wake up, they'll be gone, but I wait for their return.