Atelier Balbec

I don’t pretend I make good choices, because I don’t. To the closest people in my life I have confided that one of my great pleasures is tragedy, and bad choices render bad results. I like tragedy because it fits me; I like overpowering emotions and stepping outside of the rigidness that life can put into your mind if you have everything under control. I don’t like to ruin my life or the life of someone else, but for a pause in time it’s beautiful when there is nothing moving you forward except for pain.

I like happiness too, but I know it never lasts and I guess that’s why I like it so much. There is a tremendous joy in catching yourself in moments of happiness; right then and there you are happy and you know it, and you cherish it and then you lose it and the world is gray—much grayer than it was right before you knew you were happy. Sadness lasts. You don’t have to catch yourself in moments of sadness to know that it’s around you in every movement and in every reflection you see of yourself. The world knows when you’re sad.

I can work with sadness—sadness suits me. I’m not an angry person anymore, and this is why sadness works. See, when something is wrong in my life (and most times even where there is nothing wrong there, that in itself is tragic for me) I grab onto it and milk every ounce of logic and reason and emotion and squeeze it into words. Some of this is good, some of this is bad, but at least it’s been milked. Happiness makes you enjoy the moment; sadness makes you live it.

We had a conversation about this, Boris and I, and we both agreed upon tragedy. I wonder what that will mean for us as lovers since we already set the path we want to walk in. I’m not smart about men—I listen to my heart even when my head knows what to do because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to lose control and get hurt and get back up on your feet than to never let yourself fall. Mistakes shape us. That might sound cliché, but it formed itself into a mainstream idea because everyone knows it to be true.

I enjoy the intellectual things in life—books, politics, art, music, &c. I like knowing things and I like impressing people with the capacity I have for remembering and understanding, but no one can be wholeheartedly smart. I have two weaknesses in intelligence that make me smarter emotionally, although it takes trials and tribulations for me to acquire the knowledge. I like drinking and I like forbidden and tragic lovers. Not forbidden in the sense that I would take someone’s man away from them or commit adultery (it hasn’t happened yet, at least), but I like men who break my heart before they even put joy into it. Men whom I know will end up being an entertaining story for others to hear and a scar in my heart from all the tears shed. I like obsessing over loss and tragedy and I like drinking to forget it’s there, and to make more of it.

Happiness is fine; sadness is better.

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By: Ana Velasco

Image: Kodak No. 1 Circular Snapshots via The Public Domain Review