grayishly glum

Disclaimer: I started writing this text a few months ago and it in no way reflects my current state of mind. At Oxford I am actually impossibly happy most of the time; but as my blog tends to err on the side of optimism, I thought something slightly darker would do it no harm.

Prologue: Wye River Greens, or Recipe for a Brighter Day

Take a piece of grayishly glum sky. Place it behind a dense mosaic of leaves. Watch it erupt into silver sparkles.

Take a broken piece of your soul. Place it in front of a dense mosaic of leaves. Watch them shine with endless hues of green.

Take a dense mosaic of pieces of your soul. Wash them in a clear mountain stream. Watch them shine with endless hues of the rainbow.

Take a piece of grayishly glum sky. Dip it into a clear mountain stream. Watch it slowly swim away.

***

What if amazement doesn’t come?

(A piece of grayishly glum sky behind some ridiculous leaves and nothing, nothing, nothing...)

A hint of a something inside. Oh, ooh, ah, unhappiness. Do let’s give in! Such a comfy place, this border of insanity. No point to anything, no reason to wake up in the morning. Stuff yourself with chocolate, you know sooner or later each thing that “always cheers you up” will fail for the first time.

(Broken pieces of your soul – but there are no souls – leaves can’t make you leave sadness behind.)

O what joy to discard each lifeline that you encounter! I will not start a conversation, must pass everyone with head bowed down, I’m shy I’m shy I’m shy. I will not notice beauty, must ignore, I cannot, cannot, will not appreciate it.

(So many rainbows in a life, all the same, how can that be enough, red orange yellow green blue indigo violet I think I’ll throw up.)

What if amazement doesn’t come? You can’t write blog posts then. By the time you’re alive enough to sit down in your little contented chair and start to write, you don’t understand anymore. You can’t imagine what it means to be unhappy. You put on your rational, ironic mask and think you can prove only happiness makes sense.

(Take a piece of grayishly glum sky. Dip it into a clear mountain stream. Watch it slowly swim away.)

You know sooner or later something or other will cheer you up.