A Different Type of Sad

It’s a weird feeling to be alone
After 7 days with a thousand friends
And 6 nights with seven sisters
The present silence is not there because a curfew is enforced
To a room with people who have so much to say to each other
The silence is now there because no one else is
It’s strange to think I’d switch my “luxury” double bed
For a single bottom bunk
In a room filled with spiders and bugs
Smelling like pot noodle and perfume
With clothes and things sprawled out everywhere like an obstacle course
But without any doubt I’d trade everything
If it would bring me back to the stars
Where I found a type of comfort I’ve never experienced
Rather than being here
Aimlessly looking at the stick on stars that dull in time
My soul was opened and shared in the place where it felt most at ease
To new people I felt vunerable with
I felt a different type of sad this year
There were no explosive tears or desperate promises like the times before
It was just a week full of raw, exposed emotion
Where no one wanted for anything
But everyone still gave all they had
It’s the type of sad I don’t want to be poetic about
It means too much to me


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7 thoughts on “A Different Type of Sad

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