When I feel like life's piñata—blindfolded, spun around, and smacked from all sides—dark humor is the stick I grab to hit back. It's a clever tactic, but mastering this art is no piece of cake. It requires the right mix of timing and wit to transform the blows into bursts of laughter.
The world often feels like it's spiraling into a dumpster fire.
So, why not poke fun at the inferno? Dark humor serves as a delightful detour around the grim moments. It's the equivalent of laughing while your Titanic sinks—because if the ship's going down, you might as well enjoy the lovers kissing for the last time or the band playing.
Morbid humor is the millennial's sedative for depression—unofficial and off-label, but it dulls the existential dread with a dose of intelligent irony.
One minute you're contemplating the futility of existence, and the next, you're chuckling because you've managed to put a humor covered shroud on your sorrows.
For instance, while in therapy, I once said to my therapist in an epiphany that every light at the end of my tunnel was just another train. She didn’t laugh, but I did. And that moment of mirth felt like a small victory against the persistent gloom.
Of course, dark humor is not for the faint-hearted. It could just be as bad as suggesting that laughter is the best medicine, especially when it tastes a bit like irony, which isn't everyone's cup of tea (or should I say, a cup of bleak?).
But if you find yourself smiling at the irony of laughing when you feel like crying, then perhaps you, too, can embrace dark humor as a bizarre but effective salve for the soul. After all, if life insists on being a joke, then why not write the punchline or even be the punchline at the worst?