I Don't Understand Anybody Anymore when they Talk about Their Feelings

Why am I always so sad when I'm writing? That's something I've asked myself for months now, as the blogs and articles piled up--and so did the misery. What is left to explore is why, then, the sadness makes me so happy. Can the two emotions coexist? Are they one and the same? Are they both so indescribable, fantastically fleeting and evasive, that I could confuse one for the other?
In fact, it was just the other day that I realized that the whole world is happy and sad. Ever been on the subway and been able to swear---SWEAR--that everyone in your car was miserable? Or, ever been in the same position and been SURE that everyone was ecstatic and empowered within their lives? Maybe those two aren't completely separate perceptions, or, better yet, maybe they're the same one: the distance between salient emotions is only as considerable as we say it is, since the only thing that stands between happiness and sadness is the direction of the half moon your face makes when you express one of them. And with that negligible distance properly put in perspective, it is a wonder that we so ghettoize sadness and revere happiness. After all, we cry for both, we laugh for both, and we consecrate both as emotional landmarks that dot our lives' map. Why not bite the bullet and admit (to ourselves, if no one else) that the two might not be so far apart?

Plus, don't we all laugh when we remember the sad times, and cry when we remember the good times (or is that just what my mom told me?)? We're so emotionally confused that we may as well stop deciphering and cataloguing individual stem emotions and start grouping them shapelessly--good, bad, indifferent, harmful and benign suffices for me. I don't need despondent, morose, swooning or disconsolate to indicate sad--let's keep it rooted, simple and accessible. As much as I may be an unnecessarily adorned linguistics proponent, sometimes only the simplest diction will do--and emotions are precisely the type of fickle, capricious entities that beg a dumbing down.

So, with that, I'm tired (not exhausted, lethargic, drained, weary, or tuckered out), and I feel like I was just force-fed a bottle of merlot and half a turkey. how're those for feelings? iChat and a bottle of auchentoshen 21 are calling, and my friends aren't. So with that, i bid you adieu.

Stay tiring, tryptophan
DJ Darkmeat