The Sads Return

Without the courtesy of a doorbell or knock, the Sads have barged in and taken you hostage.
    They’re running around kicking things over and parking themselves in the corners of your mind with no respect whatsoever for your personal space or belongings. They are opening the drawers where you secure your sorrows and throwing them around like confetti, jumbling up and making a mess of the thoughts and feelings you find most difficult to cope with. The Sads do not care.
    The Sads do not care that the walls of your mind are paper thin and that he turmoil in them can often be heard by the outside world. The Sads reveal your secrets and diminish your strength, leaving you a shell of a human being without a reason to survive. When they come, they come in like a storm and cause destruction not easily mended: broken furniture, broken promises, broken hearts, broken skin. The rip off pieces of you and throw salt on the wounds, and are aroused by the sobs that escape. They partake in orgies where blood and tears mix and time ceases to exist.
    The Sads celebrate themselves and their fruitful victory over you. They parade around like masters of the house and show no sign of leaving. You are helpless to do anything but accept them as you new tenants, the sort of tenants who play loud music all night and terrorize the neighbours for sport. They do not care about anything but their own responsibility to their own selfish pleasures. You are unable to do anything but offer them an open ended invitation to stay and during their annexation of your mind you can do nothing but pray for survival.
    Bored of the mayhem and debauchery, the Sads eventually tire of terrorizing you and leave as abruptly as they came. They leave in their wake a mass of destruction which will take more time to mend than you can possibly imagine, but you don’t care. As always has been before and will be in future, you have survived their visit. You always survive in the end.