On the Weather, and Its Propensity to Make Me Whine

I don't recall ever being as affected by the weather as I am now. Maybe it's all part of some process of adjustment I'm currently working through, perhaps just below consciousness, or maybe it's the inevitable result of aging. I'm not the same person I was, I won't be this person forever. Today I feel bored and melancholy. I feel like the gray sky and I feel like the dead weight of the moisture in this humid air. I feel like there's little to do beyond letting the wet, warm world slowly suffocate me. Still, I lash out, I try so desperately to breathe.

I ran this morning, but I feel like going for a second run. I feel like sweating out the vague anxiety that's been hanging off of my heartstrings lately, purposeless and heavy. I'm a little afraid today. I'm alone, and it's strange. It's not so much that I can't bear to be with myself, but that I've come to realize I really enjoy sharing myself. Sharing what I've read, what I've heard, what I've discovered. The things that I assimilate and constantly refashion into some fleeting picture of "Dan." I endlessly seek information, and I really hate that I have so few interested parties to share it with, and that, today at least, they all seem to be inaccessible. I hate being excited about something, but having to bottle it up for so long that when the time comes to share, I've forgotten it, and then it is lost even to me.

Occasionally I wonder if I'm a difficult person. Not someone who is unbearable, drawn to strife, or needlessly complicates the lives of others, but someone who is composed in such a way that others have a hard time forging a deep connection with. Most days, I feel like people don't want to engage me on any challenging level. It's certainly their right, and I can't say I really blame them. I want to be eccentric and weird, and I want to be intellectual and thoughtful. I want people to realize what a great combination those things are, and I want them to join in, too. I want people to riff off of, I want explosions of the absurd. I want highbrow inside-jokes and secret romantic signals.

I want someone to appreciate and respect. And someday, someone who can bring themselves to extend such things to me. I want connection and sincerity.

I wish I was a blinding summer's day. I wish I was a turbulent thunderstorm. Today I'm a muggy, overcast smudge on the calendar. Today I am a victim of meteorology.