Sadness

Sadness does not always manifest itself as a state of deep despair. Sometimes it's simply a silent guest in my soul. Most days you would not find tears on my cheeks; but if you could see my heart, you would discover tiny fractures in the muscular tissue of the organ that pumps blood through my veins and keeps me alive. On those days the sadness is as much a part of me as my laughter, or my love. I don't think I could extract it or eradicate it. And although the burden of sadness can frequently overwhelm me, maybe there's a quiet and fierce beauty in its presence. Maybe sadness makes me human, and in that sense, it makes me whole.