We’re the ones innately sad.
There are people who always look Instagram happy. I just coined that term, but I’m sure you all know what that means. You know, the type of happy that resonates perfection? The girl who travels the world, snaps a photo of her 10 out of 10 body on a sailboat in Thailand while her perfect other half has a tan like an underwear model from Miami.
So there are THOSE types of happy people, but seriously, what about the rest of us? Are we not considered “beautiful people” just because we’re not oversharing nor touching up photos for an hour before posting? What is so wrong with people like us that we do not get celebrated?
I choose to listen to sad songs because they are relatable. I choose to be introverted and not go out on a bright and early Saturday morning because I like tuning out all the bullshit in the world.
Inherently sad people are beautiful as well. We’re the ones writing compelling prose touching the hearts of many. We’re the ones crafting together masterpieces meant to be interpreted by the beholder.
Sad people are just as if not more, beautiful than happy people. So what if there’s a twinge of sadness as we go about our day?
I am totally okay being a naturally sad person because bullshit quotes about “beautiful people are happy people & vice versa” do not define us all.
I rather celebrate with a book, cuddled in a blanket, and feel the emotions evoked by characters in these stories because that’s who I am and there’s nothing wrong or ugly about that.