I feel a little blue today. Very close to tears, but it's a slightly stubborn sort of wistfulness. It pains me somewhere in the chest, makes me forget my breathing, and then gets possessive about this territory in my throat. It doesn't move. I wish I read something sad, or listened to an ode - some thing that will thaw this clump of jagged, piercing ice and it will just trickle down my being. I could be free again.
It felt worse earlier on in the evening though. The weather had just turned dramatic and wild. There was thunder and thin, veiled gnarled flashes of lightning. The sky seemed to shudder like a sheet of stage art. The wind was ready to rip through the sheet and disclose the puppeteers who stood behind it. For a moment, I held my breath. I was mesmerized. The moment passed on, though, and I felt blue again.
Slowly, over the next few minutes, the air had become cooler. My prickly melanchony was getting blunt. I could feel the sawdust of my tristesse getting shaved off. And steadily, I felt lighter. The world still felt blue. But it was a blue my own blue could mingle with. Get diluted a little, hold its own, and yet get carried on forever.
That's how I will get through the rest of the night. With my sadness riding on a stronger, more beautiful sadness. I will get through the way sunlight gets carried by the sea.