Why does art, writing, whatever, have to be hard and sad and bad for it to be taken seriously? Why? Isn’t joy a legitimate thing? Do we not want to read about joy? Why not? Will we get jealous? Is it boring? Why? No, really, why?
I will write about my dad soon, and it will be joyful, and I will write about some other people I love, and I encourage you to do the same.