I woke up and the open window and two fans (one blowing in one blowing out) and the 3 AM peace (not always the case around here) triggered this feeling of melancholy that I used to get when I stayed at my grandmother’s place in the country in the summer when I was a kid. I always wanted to stay in Atlanta during the summer but without school my mom knew I had to be sent out of my abusive alcoholic father’s reach. I’ve always had this incredible knack for ignoring **** that others find incredible I don’t know but I really don’t know what state it was in but it was close to Pittsburgh. My cousins lived in Pittsburgh and when I got too out of my mind with boredom I’d head to Pittsburgh. My cousins were wild. My grandmother would try to stop me from going to Pittsburgh but I’d just go. This was like when I was 13-16. I started spending chunks of my summer with my grandmother before that but she lived in a weird small town in Georgia. I met some kids my age in that town. They tried to be nice to me but I never made any effort to make friends. I didn’t want to be friends with kids from that dilapidated sad little redneck town. Even as a kid I preferred my own company. On reflection, that was definitely my loss. But anyway, if anyone is still reading this, the flashback to that place in the country made me yearn for that kind of melancholy. It was a normal healthy lonely sorrow. I’m nostalgic for that sort of connection to my humanity. My depression these days doesn’t feel human. I have alien sadness. Space sorrow.
|