Let's Blame The Weather

It will perhaps come as no surprise to you if I acknowledge the fact that I am, by nature, somewhat morose and pessimistic. My general mental state is one that tends to sorrow and self-pity. The simple joys that seem so easily found for others are constantly just outside my grasp. Even rare moments of success are entwined with a sense of foreboding and the awful knowledge that however cheering the current moment may be, it is essentially transitory. I have been this way since I was a child, and after a while one learns to, if not make peace with it, generally accept that this is how things are. The last few weeks or so, though, have been incalculably worse. I have been suffering through an almost crippling depression, one in which the pains of existence and the futility of my every action have weighed so heavily that I have found myself almost incapable of performing basic human functions. I have had several conversations among a group of my acquaintances, however, and have found that I am not alone right now. (This is oddly gratifying, which makes me feel even more guilty because of that very gratification.) The common thread of despair, as best I can figure, is related to the weather. It is grim out there. The rare glimpses of the sun are not enough to take off the burden of melancholy that seems to stalk us through our days. But I have good news for you: Eventually you will die and all your suffering shall be ended. Also, tomorrow is supposed to not be that terrible. Not that that’s going to make any difference.

Photo by Tony the Misfit, from Flickr.