For the first twenty-six or so years of my life, I was sad. Mostly. Maybe you weren’t. From what I hear, not everyone is sad as much as I am or used to be. Some people are even cheerful.
Good enough for them.
But there are good things about being sad, too, I’ve noticed. One of them is that you learn about yourself very quickly. You learn about what is good for you and what isn’t. You learn that you have to protect your happiness because at any moment it could leave and when it does, it is hard to get it back.
You learn to love yourself, and to take care of yourself, and to do so no matter how other people make you hurt.
You learn to be alone. And even though it took me twenty-six years to learn that—to really learn it—it was worth every minute of the wait.