Sometimes, everything bores me.
And, you know, I’m really not into that. The last thing I want to be is disaffected. I’m someone who likes to find rudiments of joy everywhere. Angst is alien to me, which is why it’s so strange and scary when my mindscape curdles. Depression isn’t me. It’s the light slipping out of the sky and beauty receding from the ordinary. It’s wanting to shed yourself and find somewhere new, but knowing you’ll carry the weight wherever you go.
It’s why I need color.
This summer I’m going to Portland. I’m going, like I’ve always wanted, to see the Pacific Northwest. “Josh,” I told him last night, “I need to see something different.”
“We’ll start saving after Christmas,” he said, “and we can be there by July.”
Maybe there’s something for me on this barren planet after all.