For the first time this year I was hit with a wave of intense melancholy. A range of bitter and wistful emotions laced with despondency, dejection and pure misery. And like a cloud of encroaching blackened mist, it coaxes you in then swallows you into its wretched abyss. It’s not empathetic nor discriminatory, consuming you whole like you are meaningless.
Last night I was subjected to silent ridicule, overhearing a conversation between my brother and mother. Her pleading with him to attend a special dinner on Friday. And he using his fool-proof excuse of “I have training Friday night”, which no doubt was a lie. I don’t know what was worse, proof that I repel people most on my birth day or the fact that any celebrations would be postponed until Sunday when it was more fitting for him. It was the most unfortunate thing for my ears to take in and it left me battling tears that threatened to spill right in front of their very eyes on various, separate occasions. The possibility that there may be nothing special at all is suffocating and I don’t think they realised just how uneventful my day would truly be and how much I was counting on them. How hearing this broke my heart in impossible ways.
And maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde, sending my emotions into a plummeting downward spiral. Or maybe because my birthday looms and I’m trying so desperately to find something to hold on to. Something, anything to live for yet all I manage to encounter is dread. Dread for my birthday. Dread for Valentine’s Day. Dread for my cousin’s wedding. Dread for the vacations of others. But most of all dread for that sinking feeling that nothing will change. Nothing will improve since this is as good as it gets.