One of my college professors once told me that everything in life is happy-sad. At the time, I thought he was crazy. Now I know better. Strangely enough, I'm comfortable in that psychic space, like wearing an old pair of soft, faded jeans.
It's not even like I am trying to hail a different emotion, content instead to stay curbside and watch them variously speed past or stop to pick up other passengers along the way.
No, this place is just fine.
It is assurance of my humanity, of my imperfectness. Besides, in this moment, there really isn't anyplace else I need to be.
