It’s one of those days. One of those days with ash grey skies, but you’re eyes just miss the pale pink flowers which keeps it going. Those days when the rainbow is exist at the corner of the universe but you refuse to see it there. One of those days which makes life sad.
There is nothing the pink can do, there’s nothing your favorite shoes can do. You either want to cut off your hair or dye it. But cannot.
It’s on of those days when it’s a compulsory to be sad.
It’s not a bad thing, it doesn’t even feel sad. You just feel it an it feels right. Slightly sleepy, slightly content, sightly sad, but true.
A seat next to the window, with huge cuddly blankets, a cup of warm tea and pillows. Or roses, plain paper, little hearts and sequences. Lie down and live that moment.
But you can’t. You can’t because you have a routine and a life, which cannot pause for a day. There are people to question your actions, and people who care.
This sadness isn’t misery it’s the soul reaching up for a breath of fresh air, leaving you with dewdrops clinging to your lungs.
But sadness is sadness, which means something is wrong. And people want to help.