Melancholy
A student once used the word melancholy to describe me. To be fair, it was a complement, but I was shaken to the core by her ability to see me so clearly. In all my efforts to hide, she’d seen me after all… And melancholy was really the perfect word. Just like today’s grey and dreary skies. So unified am I with this unique brand of color that the hues have seeped in, blended seamlessly with my mood, so that the distinction between hearth and the outside world no longer exists. Instead, there is just a vast, endless expression of sadness, comforting in its embrace, familiar and easy company with which to pass the time today. No sun to blind or direct the gaze, no rain or snow to take shelter from, just a steel void that feels heavier and more meaningful than any gust of wind. Nothing strong enough to alter one’s course or direction, just a dripping mood of contented sorrow, and I, happy to reflect and observe its curves and mounds, happy to appreciate the beauty and the courage an
