Sobrang Sad

I have a playlist in my iPod called Sobrang Sad.

It has among other depressing songs, George Michaels's version of "I Can't Make You Love Me" as well as "Love Will Come to You" by the Indigo Girls.

I don't know what it is about sad songs. But they seem to hit you harder than the sweetest of love songs. They stir sharp memories. Sometimes, when you listen to them at just the right moment, you feel a distinct pain in your chest or you cry. Not to sound like I'm stating the obvious, but sad songs make us sad. And that's why we love them.

We love sad movies too. Tell me you didn't like "Dying Young", "Empire of the Sun" "Awekenings", or "Glory". All these movies made me cry, and I enjoyed every one of them. Oh my God, remember "Sommersby"?! Tragic. Loved it.

And sad books. "Waiting" by Ha Jin and Arundhati Roy's "The God of All Things" made me want to flail my arms like a widow in mourning. I felt my heart was pulled out by some force, then when I felt the pit in my chest, it was shoved back in. Ow. But each time I read a book or a story with a melancholic tone, I want to feel that hollow sadness again. [Aside: I read "Interpreter of Maladies" again over lunch today. It was gut (not heart) wrenching. So good.]

Maybe liking sad songs or sad movies is a good thing. It enables us to experience the emotion of sadness, without having to go through something traumatic.

Like a rollercoaster is to fear.