I first wanted to thank you for reading my writing. I know I don't always write very well, but I try, and even if I don't get many views, I am genuinely grateful. It may seem ridiculous, but I really want to thank my readers.
Today, let's talk about a less heavy topic… at least on the surface.
I would like to talk about sadness. If I really got into it, I could probably write a hundred pages, that's how infinite this notion is. So I'm going to focus on one of the paths that make humans sad: a sneaky, deceitful kind of sadness, like a snake that slips into us without us noticing. For example, when the person we love doesn't treat us the way we would have liked to be treated. We've all experienced a moment where we feel betrayed, powerless, just trying to fix things. But why is it always up to me to fix things, if you're the one making them worse?
My dependence on you, most likely. We feel dependent because we've shared indescribable moments. But why does dependence so often lead to sadness? Being dependent is being addicted: sometimes in a toxic way, sometimes in a softer way, like with sports. So what comes first: dependence or sadness? For me, it's dependence. We're not sad over someone who doesn't matter. We first fall into addiction, and then, when things go wrong, the pain appears.
It's as if an invisible force were stopping me from escaping this nightmare. This monster we call emotional dependence tries to convince me that everything will get better… but only if I give even more. I have no strength left. I just want it to stop. Sadness settles inside me quietly, so discreet that I don't even notice it anymore. "It's nothing, just a phase," I tell myself. I hope so.
But this sadness affects everything: the body, the mind. We become less productive, misunderstood, even foolish… just sad, stuck ruminating. So how do we get out of this endless loop? By hurting ourselves a little, paradoxically: by stopping talking to the person who is destroying us. And the worst part is taking the knife — our words — and stabbing ourselves in the stomach with it — telling the truth to their face. It's not easy, because my sadness and my dependence are like two brothers: they are stronger together, and harder to defeat.
But little by little, getting out of this dependence is not impossible. Even if the method seems insurmountable, we can detach ourselves, find hobbies again. You existed with them, you will exist after them. I am the one I decide to be. I think I can make it, so I will. Be strong: nothing is impossible.
Thank you for reading to the end. It's thanks to you that I have the strength to continue. A huge thank you to you, my readers.