I wrote the following piece for my ELA class. It was inspired by a student’s photo. If you are interested in viewing this photo, please go to the to this link I have inserted at the bottom of this post.
Illumination.
You fickle thing. You lost thing. Where have you been these frigid, winter months? Incognito, you have hidden from me. Concealed from my sight, somewhere beyond the grey.
The grey.
You left me when you were the only thing that could truly protect me. You left me. Until now.
~
Beams of pale light sift their way down through the clouds. They touch me, and I begin to cry. But I am not despaired; I am alleviated. My limbs, rigid and pained, begin to thaw. My face, ashen and shadowed, begins to warm. And I think can say that I feel okay. That I don’t feel so terrible today. Because something has changed, like it does every spring.
It happens to me every time. Each September. That’s always when I start to get bad. When summer sunshine is replaced by that of early autumn’s—dull. Come September 1, and the illumination begins to fade. It’s quite depressing, though I’m not sure why. And so I become quite depressed, even though there really isn’t a reason to be. And that’s what bothers me the most about it. Not having a reason.
Not having a reason for acting, feeling so strange those six months. From the early days of autumn to the late days of spring, I suffer. And I find myself sad to the point in which my cheeks become marred by my constant deluge of tears. Or monotonous, devoid of feeling, until I find myself wishing for the sadness and the tears again.
And so the grey settles in.
No energy. Lethargy. And it’s hard to get out of bed in the mornings. And It’s not that I don’t want to get up, it’s that I can’t get up. As if something has pinned me to the mattress. Something sinister, malevolent.
She wishes to kill me.
I know it’s a she, because sometimes she talks to me. And she sounds like me. And, well, I guess she is me.
And some mornings she tells me to go and kill myself. And she makes me think of how I could do it too. Like hanging myself from the ceiling fan. Or slitting my wrists and letting myself bleed out. Or drinking Liquid-Draino.
I don’t know why I would want to die. Because I don’t know why I feel and act so strange sometimes. And that is the worst part.
But I’m feeling okay today. I don’t feel so terrible.
No. Today I woke up, and I found that I could move. And I didn’t feel so lethargic. And she wasn’t there to pin me down to the mattress. Or to tell me to go kill myself. Because she can only ever feed on the grey. And I think maybe she is afraid of the illumination, of the light that was peeking its way through my curtains.
And today when I was brushing my teeth, I didn’t feel so sad. Or monotonous. And perhaps I wasn’t overcome with joy, but I was complacent. And I even smiled a little when I looked in the mirror this morning, because my hair was messy and askew from my previous night’s sleep.
And I smile now too, as I stand beneath the illumination. Because I don’t feel so terrible today.
~
Illumination
You fickle thing. Lost but now found. Where have you been these frigid, winter months? Incognito, you have hidden from me. Concealed from my sight, somewhere beyond the grey.
The grey.
You left me when you were the only thing that could truly protect me. You left me. Until now.
Illumination.
You are my escape. My escape from the grey. And I am relieved. But I know that I won’t have you forever. I know I can only escape for so long.
Escape. But only temporary. Only until the grey begins to settle in again. For now it waits, patiently, until it can trap me when the time is right.
The illumination never lasts.
Please don’t leave me alone again, or I think I might really lose myself this time. Please don’t leave like you do every September. Please stay this time.
Please.
For more information on Seasonal Affective Disorder please visit http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seasonal-affective-disorder/basics/definition/con-20021047
Inspiration: http://ctsphotos2b.edublogs.org/2015/04/10/breath-of-fresh-air/
Image source: http://theodysseyonline.com/suffolk-uni/freshmen-15-turned-30/171181