Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Farewell my summer love, farewell...
The days grow shorter, imperceptibly at first then more noticeably, daylight fading earlier. As soon as the daylight shifts, I get a weird sense of foreboding. I have the desire to grab on to what's around me as if it's all slipping away.
Melancholy: a pensive or thoughtful gloom. Every year around this time I get a case of summer melancholy.
To me, it's a few sparks of reason-less sadness that visit me as the end of August approaches every year. Twinges that are almost akin to regret, leaving me looking around wondering what I'm regretting. It's weird. I'm not prone to even small bouts of depression, it's rare that I can't shake a shit feeling within three hours, no matter how bad it is or what it's about. I don't love summer so I don't care that it's ending. What brings this on?
For most of our lives, August is the end - the end of freedom, the beginning of school and routine. Time to reenter civilization, to restore order, to wear shoes. Even though I've worked 30+ hours a week every summer since 1993, mid-August still screams it's all ending to me. Cue the Last Song at Kellerman's. It's like it's ingrained in my brain chemistry.