It is indeed a relief. It almost seems perverse, but I recently sat in a restaurant by myself in a pretty low mood. My state was not utter, crushing blackness, but more along the lines of a crumpled piece of carbon paper: confused, battered, and dusted with coal. Yet I looked around, feeling disconnected and foreign just a few miles from my home, and found a satisfied understanding of my role in the world. There are those who touch the third rail of joy every chance they get, and seem cheerful and delighted. Some people like that persuade me that they just put on a show: they sometimes say as much. But others actually feel a happy thrill at being alive. They get to be that kind of witness to life’s carnival. If I were a reporter for God’s newspaper, I would be covering the crime beat. The aftermath of mass murders, sadistic rapes, child abductions, and arson would fill my day. I suppose I might prefer the ‘lifestyles’ section of the paper, but bringing tragedy to light is a noble task. I see a side of life that others either can’t see or, more likely, don’t want to. For me, the bleakness is unavoidable. It looks back at me from mirrors, and haunts the corridors of my memory. It is my privilege to see this side of life, which is a real and important aspect of human existence. Of course, it is also my curse. But at that moment in the local eatery, I felt good about who I am, and the shadowy places in which I dwell.

–Will