The Sadness

Often, to describe a character's emotions, I rely on basic questions like: What does that emotion smell like? How does its weight feel? How does it manifest in the body? What does it resemble in nature? Today, I want to focus on the emotion that dominates Jimena, the protagonist of this story, throughout the second part. And the reason I’m doing this now might have to do with the fact that it was around this time in 2020 when I finished it; I had started it in 2015, long before the pandemic and all the events that followed. Back then, I was concluding my mourning for my father’s passing two years earlier, and I still felt the weight of a chapter in my life that had closed with him.

But let’s focus on sadness, which is the subject of today’s post. I’d like to start by thinking about what texture sadness has. For me, it is soft, like a blanket of mist, something that envelops and seems constant, without defined edges. Its weight is dense, but at the same time light, like a water-laden cloud that never quite rains. It’s a weight that doesn’t crush, but that maintains a persistent pressure, a presence you can always feel by your side until it begins to dissolve.

Sadness is a profound emotion that arises from loss, disappointment, or a sense of disconnection. It’s like a silent echo of something that’s gone, a longing for what is missing or has changed. It can feel like an emptiness in the stomach, a restless hollow; it brings a heaviness to the chest, as if the air thickens, making it a bit harder to fill the lungs. Often, it relaxes the muscles, lowers the shoulders, and closes the body, as if trying to protect and retreat. It predominates in the chest and abdomen but also extends to the face, relaxing the muscles and making the eyes feel heavy. The throat also tends to feel tight, as if words were trapped.

And you, how would you describe it?