Melancholy Skies

Waking up is always hard. I mean, it didn’t used to be. But it has been for awhile now.
Getting up in the morning, facing the too bright sun, having to leave the comfort of my bed for the cold air that fills my home. None of it has ever been very appealing, but, lately, it’s seemed worse. It’s been harder, just like everything else.
Everything has been heavier, harder to deal with. Even the simplest things weigh down on my shoulders like anvils have been placed upon them.
And it’s all added to the sadness that has enveloped my being.
It’s strange, nothing big has happened. Nothing deep enough to make me feel so damn sad all the time.
I've felt this way for a little over a month now, and I still don’t know why. But, sometimes, I can’t feel it.
Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can make it stop. I can stop the pain, the crushing pain of not knowing. The slow ache of waking up that builds and builds until I fall asleep to the sound of the stars and the stale feeling of tears drying on my face. The dull pain that won't ever leave my head. The numbness that plagues my limbs.
If I try hard enough, I can make it stop.
But that only works when I'm asleep and dreaming of the sky lit up with twinkling balls of gas and light.
In the morning, when I open my crusted eyes and look out the window, it all starts again. Instead of seeing the beautiful irises that once peeked out behind a deep blue sheet of night, I’ll see a clouded sky that only brings back the heartache that I’d muted with sleep.
I don’t know why I feel this way. I used to love the baby blue that surrounds the earth we stand on. I used to love laying on the grass in my backyard and watching the clouds go by.
But now?
Now, I hate it. It makes my head hurt and puts more weight on the anvils sitting upon my shoulders. It pulls me down and makes me feel small. It makes me feel the need to cry and weep and bawl and let out all of my sadness in the form of salty tears. I could create my own sea with my own sadness all because of the sky that the water would only reflect.
But, I can’t.
Not until the sun goes down and the moon comes out and I've wasted daylight by sitting at my desk and staring at the wall and listening to sad music that only adds to my own deep misery.
But, once it’s dark and I can see the white and yellow irises of the stars, I’ll get up from my creaky, wooden chair and I’ll leave my old desk and wander over to my bed, where I’ll lay down and curl into the fetal position and let out the tears that had been sitting behind my eyes all day.
Then, I’ll close my eyes and I’ll see the sky, dotted with dancing, twinkling, smiling stars that will make me feel better.
But only for a night.
And in the morning, I’ll start my routine over again and I’ll get up, face the too bright sun, and leave the comfort of my bed for the cold air that fills my home.
And I’ll look out the window and I’ll only see melancholy skies.