So what's wrong with enjoying a bit of sadness? A little melancholy? Depression?
What's wrong with it?
This crisp white wine, as the box tells me it is. This hot shower. These defeating lullabies.
What's wrong with it all?
Why can't I like it? Why can't I look forward to it? Why can't I yearn for the few hours of night I have to just lay around my apartment drinking shitty white wine and listening to disheartening acoustic tunes?
Why can't I just have that?
Why is there so much guilt associated with it? Why is there so much shame and revulsion?
Why do I type these words behind the large white door of the bathroom?
I don't know. I don't know at all.
But damn if anyone is gonna stop me from this delicious crisp white and some tub time. Damn it all.