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  • Writer's pictureSona Parmar


Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

- Mary Oliver

I am sad.

I don’t want to be sad.

I want to be happy.

All the successful people who are making it in the world, they’re happy. All the time. I know this for sure.

But I am sad, ergo, I am unsuccessful.

I need to figure how to be happy, and fast. Time is meant to be my most valuable commodity.

But I am still sad.

The stupid sadness isn’t going anywhere.

The tightness of the dry tears under my eyelids is a welcome distraction from my burning eyes. I am reminded of the fact that I am not sleeping.

I need to have a better night tonight.

I need to not be sad.

I need to not clench my teeth as I write - but if I don’t, I might cry again.

Stupid tears.

Stupid tears.

I hate the word acceptance right now. It’s doesn’t change jack. My eyes still sting. My heart still aches.

I sigh.

I take a deep breath. And then I take another. I try to remind myself that by regulating my breath, I can regulate my emotions.

But my chest feels heavy.

I just feel sad.

I let myself feel sad.

It’s OK to feel sad.

It will pass.

In time.

It all passes. In time.

I can be sad.

It’s OK.

It’s OK.

But it’s not OK.

Nothing is OK.

And just at that moment, I feel an angel next to me. She whispers in my ear.

“If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.”

I sigh.

It will be OK.


One day.


The angel said so.

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