Of Sad Stories II

So I have been reading. In the post about book tags, one question asked which of the two kinds I preferred; sad books or happy books (I forget how exactly the question was phrased, but y’all get the idea). Of course I said I love reading books that make me cry. Books that could even make me cry so hard even if that was what I was doing all day… crying so hard, in this case, just means when tears roll down my face with not so much of an effort to  stop or hide them. My point here is I am not wailing, weeping, or even sobbing…my face is just leaking.

Mable of the sweet growing pains heard my plea and emailed different collections of over 30 books, it was extreme excitement, thanks Mable.

Growing up, I was, and still is, a happy person. In some conversations (normally with new people) I’d be smiling all through uncontrollably. To laugh is not a hard job for me; just throw in the slightest joke and I’d be laughing so hard. Real life jokes…not comedy shows or TV whatever(s). They’re funny, but it’s not too real except for the few times when I can’t really help it, hehe… I have a big laugh, and it can be really loud sometimes; I basically laugh with everything I’ve got, it’s infectious.

The only people I ever hang around, are happy people and it’s not that they don’t have problems… they do, a closet full. But it seems to me that they like to each deal with them in their own way inspite of your probing. So I thought I would go on a quest, to find out how other people dealt with sadness because the truth of the matter is that I didn’t know how, given that I had a baggage of damage on my shoulders. It was instead translating into anger over a period of time. I feel like I am telling you too much of myself already.

Anyway since I loved to read, I soon realised that between the funny and sad books, the latter seemed to dig into me more. I need you to remember they’re not entirely sad, some of them have endings that are too good to be true, and you only realise what’s going on after you discover your wet face. I find out that crying was to me some kind of anti-depressant, a stress reliever.  I often felt a lot better after I let a few tears roll out between deep breaths; although I am aware that this can be very much the opposite for a lot of other people.

its-okay-to-cry-the-sky-does-it-too-quote-1

I found the realness of life, in the sense that I no longer had to brush things off because I wanted to stay cheered up. I could actually give myself a minute to tear up and acknowledge my thorns. So I fell in love with sad stories, movies too sometimes because they taught me how to cry. And when someone has pissed me the heck off, the anger seeps out all my energy I can hardly speak; at that point, I learnt that all I have to do is let some tears fall while the anger rafts along them.

Of Sad Stories 1 – Prologue.

….that was real sweet Nicholas Sparks, real sweet.

Date check: Sunday 26th June 2016. I am under house arrest for a few days in an unknown location; not as if secret, but well, i haven’t mentioned where i am yet otherwise I could easily be found if one wanted to. Don’t ask me for details but just so you know, if I were discovered by a certain group of people, my near future would come crumbling down in uncollectable debris or like the murderous mudslides of Bududa. Not like a joke.
Like most people my age, this is the most critical time of my life when I am most concerned about what happens tomorrow at my desk, while on duty, etcetera because it basically makes me who i will be “tomorrow”.

Anyhow, I can’t sleep in, or I’d feel like a lazy bum. So i reach over my bed to find my phone that spent all night plugged into the socket to recharge. I winced at the thought of the pain it must have felt; being force-fed beyond what it could take. I knew deep down that one day it would completely resent me, stop feeding, and eventually leave me for 6 feet under. I wouldn’t weep, but take a deep breath and start the long holiday from the noisy pop-up notifications.
I digress.

When I find my phone, i pick up from where I left off the last time I read. Now, i am reading books using my phone; i will tell you how I got them in the story next, they’re over 30. I haven’t got into the habit of buying books yet, (but my children gon get served books for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Granted) and having my temporarily-owned computer crashed, phone’s in handy. So don’t be thinking i am addicted to social media when I’m looking down at my phone all day. And away from people…ambivert alert.

I begin to read for a while, and the book prematurely comes to its end. Yes. It actually leaves me hanging but i am thinking that maybe there was nothing more left to do. Landon loved with all his heart, Jamie lived with all that she was and there was nothing Hegbert or I, could do if not further the already sad situation. Although, i must say that was real sweet Nicholas Sparks, real sweet.

The hunger pangs have kicked in. This is the worst possible moment of being under house arrest, i tell you. I finally find breakfast, a very awkward breakfast… Even spinsters live better than I do sometimes.
Between the weird breakfast, i was writing this post, about what kind of book(s) i have just read and why i love reading them…

Closed Door. – Day 4

It’s like a big mahogany door,
That shuts bang in your face
And says you can’t get in.
Sorry you have no pass key.

It deems you unworthy of the carpet
The woolen carpet there in
That your sore feet could rest upon.
A haven for your blistered soles.

So it drags you back to that darkness,
Of a dungeon devoid of expression
Cold and lifeless
Of a path of the past.

A rocky path you know all too well,
That trod your feet sore
So down drops your laden body
You shall tarry there a while.

AGAIN.