There is a song I know of. it's a bittersweet song, in the most literal sense of the word. It makes you sad and happy all at once, and people who've never heard it, and people who haven't heard it in a very long time, cry when they hear it. It makes me cry, it makes me sad, and it makes me happy to be sad- bittersweet. And I never thought about it much- there was always to much feeling, and take-it-all-in-now-this-is-a-moment to think. But I realized why it was the way it was. It defines love. Who defines love? It's such an impossible thing to do. Skilled artists turn away from the task. Bad ones try and fail. But he said what love was for himself alone- but encompassed the whole world in his definition. It wasn't all happy- nothing ever is. It was bittersweet.
       There is a place I draw. A black and white world, never meant to be colored, where the wind blows the long, tall grass and bends it. It is a sad place- but when I draw my people- the sad people, lost in the wind, lost in the tall, bending grass, unable themselves to bend, like their loose clothing wills them to, unable to change, unable to snap back when the wind stops blowing- when I draw them- I'm sad- but it makes me happy- happy to be sad- bittersweet. I don't know why- (I never make any sense to myself-) but these two things are connected in my mind. Well nigh inseparable. I write these things down, that someone may be able to understand what I cannot. I wish I could understand myself- but it makes me happy to share- happy to be sad- bittersweet.