It’s one of those snow falling on cedars days days. The sun is trying to break through the clouds with fluffy white flakes drifting down. It’s kind of pretty, kind of melancholy. Don’t mind me. I’m just a natural born melancholy babe. I’m a broken record. Unfortunately I can’t sing like Judy. But I can dream about somewhere over the rainbow where bluebirds fly and dreams come true.
It’s another day. The sun is out. The sky is bright and clear. I wish my head is too, but alas! It is like a ticker tape with running rhetorics and what have you(s). Ok, I’m being dramatic. I have a sinus cold but nevertheless, my head is thick and hollow at the same time. Nothing coming in and nothing going out.
It is yet another day. I am a broken record. I have lost my way with words and thoughts. It is true. I haven’t been using them, now I’ve lost them. It will be hard work to coax them back. Oh well, I’ve lost heart and passion, too. The world is flat. It will be an uphill climb but I’m up for the challenge. I’ve been forever plodding on this weary road. The habit is in me. It is my Camino de Santiago.
So much for my plans for a heartful February. The best plans of mice and men often go awry. Mine certainly has. It feels that way but feelings are deceiving. Sometimes they are not true. If I am a depressive, I am a highly functional one. What seems like my lowest low can outshine another depressive’s highest high. I’m not bragging nor being facetious. I’m just being truthful. I always try. I’m always on the Camino. It’s just not in me to stop, give up, give in, throw in the towel, pack it in, abandon ship, derail, fall off the wagon…. That’s not how I am.
But I am a melancholic and love sad happy songs. I do wish I could sing. I wish I could sing like this angel.