i am sad

I am sad. That will probably not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. After all, any person who can still be seen curled up in bed and rocking out to the theme tune of one of their favourite childhood shows can be considered sad. Given some of my writing, the person this may come as a surprise to is you.

I am sad. It is a sadness unlike anything I have ever felt. Not necessarily in magnitude, but in the way it permeates me, like an Aunt squeezing her favourite niece, but without any of the warmth or overwhelming odour of perfume. It is not dramatic or romantic, it is dull and extending.  The difference between a mountain and the curvature of the earth.

I am sad. There are days when I feel ok. I get up in a good mood and I go to the gym (New year goals for the win!). I come back refreshed and I say good morning to anyone who will hear it the moment I step foot in the door. I wash up all the leftover dishes form the night before and cook myself some scrambled eggs and vegetables with a hint of turmeric. I go to one of my lectures and I find myself once again interested and able to listen. The clock ticks away all too fast and suddenly I’m on the river, yelling and joking with the crew I’m coxing, feeling like I belong. Then I’m in my house, telling my house mates about my day and am genuinely curious about theirs.  I cook myself a nice dinner, putting in effort to make it perfect, before escaping into a new Netflix show and fall asleep halfway through, safe and content with my life.

And then there are the bad days. The last one started with a nightmare (involving me skiing with 2 snowboards instead of skis… more terrifying than it sounds) and I woke up scared. More scared than I had been in a long time and infinitely lonelier. I’ll force myself to the gym, to try and distract myself but I’ll give up halfway through my workout. I’ll wonder what the point is if I’m never going to be rowing those boats I cox all too often. I look at myself and decide I’m never going to lose weight. I’ll come back and just lie on an unmade bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep the day away, but being too scared of slipping into more nightmares. I’ll lie there, thinking about what was, what is, and the way things could have been. Hoping for a future that will probably never happen and wishing for nothing more than my hope to be crushed so I no longer must feel this separate. The lectures will drag through the centuries as I stare forward, too consumed by my own thoughts to even consider what I’m being taught. I’ll get back to my house, and my flatmates want to have fun. So, I drink, I dance, I paint the façade of a happy person while underneath I realise I’ve forgotten how to have fun. The smiles and the laughter, all of it seems fake. I’ll head off to bed, leaving my partying friends and beg sleep to come so that the next day may start better.

I am sad. I don’t want to be sad, but I am. I don’t want to write sad things, but to ignore what I am would be to keep up the façade I grow evermore tired of wearing. Things will get better, I will get happier and I won’t always feel this way. Hope can be a torturous thing, but it can also be the guiding light through the darkness. I will probably be happy one day.


For the time being

I am sad.

Hi sad, I’m Dad

What? Just because I’m sad, doesn’t mean I can’t make bad jokes.

More positive post next week, but I had a couple of bad days and needed to vent about them. Thank you for reading.

See you next week,



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