“Be happy now.” She said,” Tomorrow I will start teaching you to be sad.”
And that’s how it started, once upon a time, not long ago, melancholia, growing onto me, like a malignant disease, infecting every sect of my soul.
But she was the stray of our generation, philosopher of the lost cause, deluded by fiction and emptied by hope, bickering and absolving to forget the plentiful past filled with a plethora of people, people who were like dreams, the beautiful people from a beautiful time, the happy people.
She was sad, she wanted to be, because that’s where the meaning lies she said, in sadness, and I loved her like I loved every sad thing.
I loved her like every sad poem I ever read and every sad song I ever heard.
“You are my sad bet,
And I am your favorite pet.