I was walking with Zero the other night when I felt incomparably odd and unsure about everything. I guess my reluctance to bring up something to talk about was just too obvious that it obliged him to do most of the talking. He is a bad speaker, I know; and I am never good at listening to his half-interesting rants. I was thankful there were still jeepneys passing by to punctuate every awkward silence and dead-airs.
We talked about random, mundane things -- his dancing, my writing, his hair gel deprivation, my sleepless nights, and our kinds of sadness.
It was kind of sad, he said, to walk alone in a dark and empty street. I was surprised that, after 10 minutes of walking, he came up with something 'deep.' I told him that some people find happiness in solitude. But humans are cowards by nature. He has a point.
Sadness, like happiness, is contagious. When we are happy, we extend our own happiness to other people. When we are battered by extreme misery, whether intentional or not, we infect people so they'd end up sympathizing with us.
We embrace sadness just as we embrace hope, success, and guilt. We love sadness just as we love euphoria, bliss, and contentment. Sadness, then, is a double-edged sword for it can always make us stronger, or cliched as it may sound, tear us apart.
I tucked my cold hands inside my jacket and looked up. And sighed. There was no visible star. It was only an hour before midnight and it was, after all, another sad night.
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