It is Sunday afternoon in early Spring. The weather is great, and it's spring break. I have my window open, the curtains fluttering in the gentle wind.
I live next door to a Mexican family. They're a very celebratory bunch- nearly every weekend there is some sort of gathering, or I would smell something delicious cooking. Right now they are having a pretty large party. There is someone playing the guitar, a bunch of people singing songs, a great deal of chattering and laughter. It's all very jovial. It reminds me of exactly how alone I am.
It is Sunday afternoon and I'm having chocolate ice cream on my own, in my cold room, in front of the computer watching Netflix. Or simply browsing. I'm hungry. I feel sick. My muscles ache, and nothing makes them better. I'm sniffling. I'm feeling chilled.
And all I want is to be sitting outside in the garden, soaking up spring sunshine, with family and friends, singing and eating and being merry. Perhaps I really was meant to live a Hobbit life.
I've been ridiculously exhausted all this time, so much so that I don't even know where I'm standing now. It feels like I'm standing on the beach, the waves pulling away the sand packed under my feet. I look at the world through detached eyes, for why shouldn't I? There is nothing here for me.
The curse of having been happy once is that when you're not- all the music and the joy in the world can't replace that. It just ends up pooling at your feet- and you feel colder than ever.
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