Saturday, 6 August 2011
day by day (old joy comes back to me)
So here we are, well into August, and the familiar melancholy-tinged end-of-summer nostalgia is hitting me like a freight train.
Endless rain and nights too cold for bare feet, a prep course in Swedish for my final exams, the approaching start of my final year in school - it's all slightly too much. (And I do know the days still swelter with heat and there are warm days to come, but nonetheless there's no escaping the blues.)
For the past few weeks I've been intensely unhappy and disconcerted, in the familiar shaky-hands way. Unable to sleep, listless and vague. Clinging to the idea of summer having flown by without much of an impact. (Forgive me my maudlin tendences, this'll get brighter I swear.)
And then last night, at the seaside with music and friends and a sunset, I got to thinking about everything I've done during the past two months, how undeniably and inexplicably happy I have been.
And so maybe there's nothing to be sad about. Maybe what I need right now is a good cry and a shoulder to lean on, and then I can face this mystifying concept of autumn with a heart less faint. I aim to be prepared, this time around. With wellies and jumpers and fingerless gloves. I'm already waiting for the cooler days in September, the darkening night and coloured leaves.
And in the meanwhile, I have ten more days of (almost) absolute freedom, to be spent with friends in that glorious sunshine.