My younger brother says that melancholy is "Being happy about feeling sad."
Very philosophical for a nine year old. I think.
The best stories are like that. Melancholy. Bittersweet. Stories where you don't know how to feel. Stories you get lost in. Stories that leave you trying to digest the aftermath. The shock. Stories where the ending is... Not quite happy...But not sad either.
Have you ever wondered what taking drugs is like? At first I imagine it's amazing. Stunning and beautiful. Dancing on a rainbow, high above the world. Above the storm.
But eventually you come back down. The storm feels worse now then it did before, and desperately you want to dance again. So you dope up again. It's not quite the same though. Now you're sitting on clouds. You can still feel the cold bite of rain a little. But it still is breathtaking.
And you come back down. So you try again. And again. But eventually you can only slow the storm. Turn it into a drizzle.
But you keep trying. Not because you want to anymore. Because you need to. Because the earth is flooding, and you need so badly to be above water. To stop drowning. To breath.
I'm sure, anyone reading this is wondering my connection between drugs and bittersweet stories. To be frank, there is none. These are just things I was thinking about today. And needed to write it down. Sometimes, when you write down what scares you, what little thoughts creep around in the dusty corners of your mind, whispering harshly, scaring you, giving you nightmares, sometimes when you write them down they become less terrifying. Less likely to hurt you.
