“I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away — yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth’s orbit ——————————— and wanted to shoot myself.”
Unlike sadness, there is an inner beautification that takes place when you find yourself plunged into the depths of a deep melancholic state. It’s the feeling of being swept away into a terrible dreamscape, an aesthetic experience where one, from the heights of despair, looks upon life with contempt and self-relates to the perpetual gloominess of one’s own being.
Whereas sadness is far too acute, far too focused and concrete to be aesthetic — melancholy is the feeling of being swept away in the creative destruction of a new horizon within the Self. To be sure, one undeniably suffers, while at the same time, one cannot resist the temptation to identify and relate to oneself through merciless and infinte despondency.
Heavyhearted joylessness creates and destroys — robbing the world and everything in it of meaning, but yet at the same time producing something altogether new, and capturing the essence of both the beautiful and grotesque.
Melancholy, for all its dispiriting effects, enables one to become reflective — a deliverance from lower to higher immediacy…a head-first dive into the interiority of the Self; the catalyst for the renunciation and rejection of the entirety of the external world precipitating the fall into self-creation and self-annihilation.
This is why so many melancholic personalities excel in the creative and artistic fields; and why they are so little understood by everyone else.