Sometimes our bodies betray us and work against our nature, but for many sorrow is an addiction.
Like happiness, it fills a void. Feeling empty is the opposite of sorrow and happiness. Passion takes on many forms, and a passionate woman full of sorrow is everything but an empty space.
Thus, depression sometimes is a form of self-defense, but, insidious that it is, it is more an abusive lover who is the only one to pay attention. It’s like alcoholism: feeling drunk is better than not feeling anything at all.
There are many ways into addiction, and half as many ways getting out. Sadness may be better than the bottomless pit, but the mountain of life is there for a reason.
Climb it or sit around at the bottom looking at the clouds. Happiness is not a choice or an obligation.
Happiness is an addiction, and the end result of looking up at the top, rather looking into the abyss.
It’s that simple.