My whole life, I perceived sadness as something to conceal -- to paint over with a veneer of effervescent happiness; a smile, glinting eyes, and a general air of composure. I warded off any seeping sentiments that dampened my sunny facade and locked any unwanted emotions (anxiety, sadness, worry) in an unseen vault -- shielded from anyone and everyone.

I rarely talk about how I'm genuinely doing. If I'm sad, I present a general visage of contentment. If I'm excited, the same expression masks my face. I've deemed it obnoxious to express any emotion on either extreme end of the spectrum -- I've tried, painfully, to teeter toward the middle of the wide array; edging on nonchalance and indifference. But this middle-area, this stagnant pond void of emotions, has no outlet -- no way of flowing into the vast ocean of happiness, sadness, and the like.

I've construed a dam, piled sticks and debris my whole life -- a blockade that shelters me from the natural flood of emotion -- and now, the built up pressure between my arid exterior and the liquid feelings gnawing at my skin is reaching the point of explosion. A trickle of water is oozing through the cracks of my forged dam and the sticks are caving in.

And that's OK. It's good, actually.

The natural stream of emotions -- the ebbing tides of hesitation and resentment; the flow of excitement and elation -- is a beautiful gush of rippling feelings that dazzle under the limitless circumstances that induce such raw sentiments. But for some reason, our society seems to "emotion-shame." If you cry too much, you're dramatic; if you have an ever-present grin, you're fake; if you're depressed, you're dubbed pathetic; if you're excited, you're obnoxious or even pompous. We shouldn't judge others for feeling their genuine emotions, and we definitely shouldn't judge ourselves reveling in the authentic emotions that tickle our toes at the water's edge.

In order to feel true happiness, you must allow yourself to feel pain and sadness -- it is the age-old adage that is at the heart of many stories' and movies' morals, like The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. The story, though disturbing, highlights the necessity of something negative in order for the realm of positivity to even exist. It is weird and almost paradoxical -- you need something bad in order to be able to acknowledge something good. But it's true, a ride through life of mere contentment -- the middle-man emotion -- is inherently void of contentment; its a downward spiral toward concealed displeasure. The amplitudes and troughs of your oscillating emotions are vital -- bask in the good vibes, but also accept the down trodden moments and gain a renewed alacrity to move forward.

So, it's OK to feel sad. Relish in a moment of cool, tear-stained sadness. Then, paddle on, away from the violent riptide and into a calm lull of sheer euphoria, where the water's surface is glassy and reflects the true beauty of the world -- and yourself.