Melancholy Maze

It's all fun and games in Janunary...

It stops being fun March 3...

A bit of melancholy takes over. It’s been there for months: It ebbs in flows with the tide of frozen precipitation. It paralyzes me into a state of nothingness. And I can’t help but wonder: Where’s the sun?

And 17th...

It’s hiding again, as it has been for what feels like forever. The cold that’s been biting at our bodies now feels normal, but our pants don’t fit: We’ve acclimated to the cold; the darkness. Now I need the spring to come; change; renewal; motivation; any desire to get out of bed. But the month winds down and we’re five days past spring and it has snowed all day with the dull drone of grey sky looming over our collective heads. We sigh in need of the sun; spring; sociability. Who even wants a window in this mess? Who even wants to meet the challenge of smiling through the pale gray, trapped in the limited visibility of blah?

This looming darkness of a never-ending winter creeps into my mind; stealing laughter and expanding my waistline. “I’m sick of it,” I exclaim yet again. A mental  malaise has plagued this winter, fighting back with hope just to breathe above the water’s blizzard's break: I hope this snow is the last. A winter of challenges and a chosen sort of solitude, personified by Mother Nature, magnified by her wrath; played out like the war in my mind. The clouds win again today, but, I tell myself, the sun is coming. It will be back.

...and twenty fucking fifth!

 This is my version of hope.

At once the green will grow; the sun will shine from sky of a pure and welcoming blue. Flowers will blossom and baby birds will annoy the shit out of us with their morning cries of hunger. Our beds will disinterest and our collective goal will be 72 and happiness. Our Earth will warm. It will. It will. It will. And we’ll be okay again.

Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetle…