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I am sad.

It is a strange sadness. It moves like liquid, seeking room in crevices within me, filling them.

I don’t understand this sadness.

When I try to make sense of it, I see a black, swirling cloud. Sometimes it is smoky, the haziness compounds it mystery.

It’s thick and heavy. I try to push it, wade through it, brush it away, but it resists, and my efforts are futile.

Where does it come from? Why is it here? What does it want with me?

I do not know how to respond to this sadness.

I feel guilty. Ashamed. Worried. Unsettled.

I am not a sad person. I am one who is contented with her surroundings. I am optimistic. I am peaceful.

So why has this Stranger of Sadness come into my life?

I do not know.

But the discrepancy kills me.

I do not want to be sad.

What shall I do?

I know not.