Comfort is something we all strive for, right?
I’m comfortable when I’m sad. I can’t say I like being depressed, but there’s a certain quality to it that’s preferable to being happy. With pleasure there is always some persisting sense of unreality, to a point where it’s unsettling. Sadness is real, it’s a fixed position that I can trace through my actions and others.
I can’t say that happiness has ever offered me that.