Not that it feels good to feel sad, but that, well, instead of suffering under the nausea of stewing abstract or undefined emotions or just general sadness, the need to cry in an infrequent crier (me) allows a sort of peak of sharpened acuity that is very much not present most of the time and is refreshing in its own way that I cannot do justice to in words, but would very much like to share somehow even though sharing is absolutely impossible in this sense.
Almost like this (my effort):
All of the sad events that have happened in my life are not really mine. I see them, out there, almost like a TV show or movie, and consume them in that way, as fiction, and when they become mine, when I own them, like, well, every May 13th, I find it fucking refreshing, and I cry, because they have distilled into painful experience and I am simultaneously absolutely helpless to do anything about them. Because I agree that those events are strange and weird and downright petrifying. Fuck, imagine that, right? And there, that, imaging, well, turns out, there's no need to imagine at all. All I have to do is remember.
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