I don't know how to be sad without making it obvious through my i-don't-give-a-fuck facial expressions and non-menstruation-related mood swings; without being rude and harsh even to my family; without spitting profanity even when it's unnecessary; without shutting people out of my life.
I don't know how to be sad without throwing my favorite porcelain plates and mugs, and my mom's transparent glasses; without punching the concrete walls of my cavelike, cold bedroom; without screaming my lungs out behind my tear-and-saliva-stained pillows.
I don't know how to be sad without drowning myself with loud, sad songs and listen to them like lullabies my dad used to sing for me. I don't know how to be sad without writing unhappy and suicidal endings with trigger warning as titles. I don't know how to be sad without getting drunk almost every night then wake up with a hangover; without attempting to stop my heart from beating.
I don't know how to be sad without fucking everything up.
I don't know how to be sad without looking and acting like I'm not.
I don't know how to be sad in this disinterested, unconcerned, two-faced world.