sorrow
I never learned to count my blessings I choose instead to dwell In my disasters Ray Lamontagne, “Empty” This line. This song. I’ve loved it since the first time I heard it. I identified with it, and its words penetrated my soul. I am a fan of sadness. I always have been. I love a song that will make my chest tight, a movie I have to squint to watch because it’s so dark, and a book that I can put myself in and feel every bad feeling the character is feeling. I like the rain, documentaries about Elliott Smith, black coffee, black clothing, and silent rooms. I have been like this as far back as I can remember (minus the coffee, that’s new), finding an almost unsettling comfort in being sad. In a way, I invite it into my life. It has been both a blessing and a curse. But let's dwell on my disasters. We all know (or at least I think we do) the downfall of loving sadness. It's hard to love anything without becoming attached. I remember a week where the only song