My sadness.
I want to talk about my sadness. But my sadness is a rude distant relative that has no business in my house, yet insists on staying and interfering with every small detail of my life. My sadness is a predator that has claimed me as a prey, a malicious vicious killer that hunts for the fun of the chase, and when I finally landed in its clutches it toyed with me, tossing me around, yawning, bored at my lack of resistance. My sadness is the clique of girls who bullied me through elementary school, middle school, high school and when I run into them somewhere a few years later I greet them casually because I am a grown up and I am mature and I have put it all behind me, pretending they weren't one of the reasons I am mesirable. My sadness is a grave I dug with my bare hands in a cold hard ground of a wasteland to bury it but instead I fell into it, and got buried where there is no tombstone for recognition. My sadness is treacherous and cruel, sometimes it allows me to go about...