I get a feeling of exhilaration when I get bad news. Only for a brief moment it feels almost exciting. Like when the storm around you turns off your kitchen lights and you’re alone in the dark.
And then the bad news is not exciting. Like when you realize you can’t watch the television or read a book because the storm around turned off your lights and you’re alone in the dark.
And I’m left to contemplate the meaning of the bad news.
I am not ready to be this sad again. Being sad, being this sad.
I told my therapist about the bad news exhilaration. She said she doesn’t know why that happens.
I told another therapist about how I feel when I’m telling people about my life, I feel like I’m lying. My underarms sweat and I feel like I’ve just told an elaborate lie. Sometimes there is a chill that runs down my spine like I have just told the worst lie in the world. But I must clear my throat, and continue the story. And it is just a story.
She wrote very quickly on her pad but didn’t say anything.
Is it sad? Do I feel sad? Or is it just supposed to feel sad. And there it is. The sadness.