If my lungs could talk what would they say right now? Ouch - for starters. We feel caged in, let us out. Want to fly like a bird, soar in the sky, float across blue, bask in the sun, touch feathers with white clouds, want to swoop and wheel and criss-cross the sky out of sheer joy. It's too dark in here, too cramped, a bit soggy too. Feels like the roof caved in, like it's raining in and there are pieces of broken wood standing out against a dark sky and drip, drip, drip, steady, cold drizzle. This isn't where we want to be. We want sun - but not the hot, beating sun of the Caribbean, no that's too much - we want sun, clear, fresh, cool (but not cold) air, a feeling of Spring, hills - somewhere where we can be above the smog, blow away the dust, get clear of gas and bugs and all the other stuff that comes with living in Europe's drain.
I want to sit somewhere on a warm hilltop with a light breeze, feel silence all around me and feel that all is well and that all's going to be well.
I should stop watching the news and give myself a treat.
Right now, what treat could I give myself? Find a good book, a fiction book, and escape between its pages. Drink another cup of tea. And maybe get out the drawing pad and just doodle and put a few colours on the page - yeah, just be a kid for half an hour. I'm never going to shake off this feeling of gloom by filling in my tax return and forcing myself to open a study book.
I know, I know, you're panicking about the deadlines - looming for both tax and course. But you have to give yourself a break girl.
Yes, there's sadness there too. Old sadness. Melancholy's been a night-time buddy all my life. HEH, go do something NICE!
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