Sadness is a lot like plague. One day you wake up to realize that you have the deadly sickness. Something in my body hurts. The pain has no source as I coil up in between sheets and cry. All I utter are empty prayers to a God who I only crawl back to when I’m down with the plague.
Have you ever seen smog in mid-winter covering the city? It feels a lot like that inside my chest. My bones have become hollow and crooked. The dim sunlight steals a glimpse into my room through the curtains as the fan sings a familiar tune. The plague paints everything in shades of sickness. Lost friendships and broken bonds ooze out of my veins like blood gushes out as it meets the blade.
Suddenly, all that I have ever tried to hide stares me in the face. Monsters under the bed and skeletons in my closet come out to dance-they dance under the sun. Demons don’t hide in darkness, that is a myth. They walk and dance under the shining sun.
Sadness is a lot like plague, love. One day you realize that you have been cured but still wait for it to creep up on you someday soon.