Sadness

One would think that sadness would have a bottom, an epitome, some sort of final border by which to measure how low one actually has hit. If there is no proverbial bottom, then do we continue to fall like the rabbit hole of Alice? I cannot perceive falling any deeper, nevermind ever continually.
I seek that bottom in order to then appreciate the top. How can one aspire to reach up, up, and better if there is no line or concise point to push off from, to seek to run from. How can there be a point of comparison to determine just how low one has actually been.
Let me tell you.
Brighter curtains do nothing to change ones mindset. It is all fools perception and pillow talk. It is irrelevant of reality and such.
Feelings this dark, bleak and hopeless must be locked up and thrown away. I do have faith. I really do. Somewhere...
There is only so much ridiculousness one can tolerate in the farce of the charade before the costumes have to come off and be cleaned eventually. Then...what.
What is revealed.
There is no medication strong enough to conceal the candor of obvious lies.
Dress it up, make it over, re-write it and it still remains the same underlying truth.
When it becomes toxic it is no longer an option.
The tears of madness taste the same as any other, be warned.
Its official.
I am not ok.