As I listened to “our” song for the seventh time, I realized that happiness is not the absence of sadness; happiness is merely the absence of sadness combined with content. The salty pillows and bed sheets could vouch I wasn’t happy that night, light years from it actually. I felt helpless and lonely; a thousand people could have cared for me at that very instant, and I would have still felt the cold gnawing my inside, literally.
Surely God didn’t exist, because if he did, he would not have allowed this sadness to engulf me whole. As I dragged on the last smoke from my nearly exhausted cigarette, I realized the fact that I was forsaken by not one but two.
The antidote to pain is not happiness, neither is it love. You can gulp down all the alcohol in the world, pump your veins full of drugs and you’d still feel empty as the vacuum enveloping you. I am still trying to figure out what the remedy can be because that night I knew that some pain had no remedy. All you can do is wait it out and hope you don’t kill yourself in the process. Hope, yes that can be the anti-toxin to pain, can it not? Maybe, maybe not; but nevertheless let’s hope that it is.