So little accustomed to not soaring amongst the clouds of lala land, I don't know how to be when my wings are clipped a little, when gravity is hugging me a little too tight, when I am descending. I fight it, I hate it, I push against it. In short, I refuse to be unhappy.
This doesn't work out for me so well. I forget to recognise that anxiety and sadness and confusion have their uses too. I miss out on the meaning of these moods because all I want to feel is good. And blind to all things golden I don't realise that unhappiness is not A Bad Thing.
It's okay to wake up some days and not be bursting with smiles and good mornings. I'm allowed to be down, as obvious as that sounds. I have to remind myself of all of this. I shouldn't have to apologise for not burning up with my usual inferno of loud mouthed laughter. I don't need permission to be conflicted. It's okay to be a little sooky sometimes.
I have to write this down because otherwise I won't believe myself. Everybody has to give themselves permission to be wholly who they are, every shade and point on the spectrum. Even the tones they'd rather not be aired live. The not-for-sale face that is reserved for days you do not leave the house. The way you are when nobody else is around.
The truth is that sometimes I'm unhappy. Sometimes I am stalked by doubt and insecurity. Sometimes I can't get to bed for hours because there's an angry mob of unhappy thoughts that swarm my sleep. Sometimes I blindfold myself just so I won't have to see the natural dark around me. Sometimes I get a little crazy, a little sad, a little unhappy. And that's okay. It's fine. It's allowed. I'll allow it.