Summer of melancholy
Everyone I know is sad. The feeling seeps through the floorboards in our homes and infiltrates our brains as we sleep. We are the generation of depressed and solemn kids. We don’t feel excitement and we cry often, but usually only when we are alone in our beds, or with the water streaming down our bodies in hot rivulets, mixing with our salty tears.
We want to be happy. We look out the window as the vitamin D streams in but we can’t bring ourselves to enjoy the warmth. Brief spates of happiness feel awkward and we don’t know how to handle feeling good. What did we do to deserve joy? But soon enough the warmth disappears and we are once again lonesome and dejected.
We are children of melancholy. Our hearts beat steady and slow and we often think about our dying earth and corrupt system and children in cages.
We are privileged. We lead good lives with good people around us. We have jobs, lovers, and futures. But the cynicism set in at an early age and there is no reversing it.
We are sad because we live in a harsh world of cold corporations and skewed priorities. We live in a world where likes are more valuable than friendships and everything is about winning. We don’t invest in each other because we were taught to always invest in ourselves. We are selfish and unforgiving because we mirror the behavior of our surroundings.
We are tangled, and confused, and anxious. We are stressed, and insecure. We want to be good people but by what standard? We don’t want a god, we want people to be loving and accepting without obligation. We want parents to stop yelling, friends to stop betraying, and lovers to care.
This summer we are melancholic. But at least we aren’t alone.
