Leaving

Those misty gray days when the soft fog blankets the earth, those days are the best. When I spend drizzly afternoons on the river, the light rain pitter-pattering on your hair and cheeks, I feel something. Sorry I can’t be more specific, but the thing is, the deepest rooted feelings are undescribable (at least by me). And the feeling of these types of days…It’s a gray feeling. Not miserable or sad, not depressed, just gray. It’s a beautiful feeling, even with all that shmeh, and when the last of these days slowly start to fade into beautiful spring colors, I can’t help but feel abandoned. But by what? By afeeling? What would that mean? Abandoned by a feeling…by a feeling of gray, a blend of black and white. Black and white, black and white. A feeling of both insecurity and security; insecurity in knowing that everyday will be different, security in knowing that every day, every week, every month will continue to go on past my time. A calm feeling that makes you unaturally restless and sets you on edge. A feeling of insignificance but motivation. It’s when the clouds decide to visit our ground, when they shower us, when they touch us, when they crowd us, that’s when I feel the incredible duality of feelings. I feel sheltered under those days, nice and warm and safe. But those days are coming to an end now. Now come the days filled with feeble battles, sun versus clouds. “Bright”, “cheerful” flowers, the birds chirping, no more silence. Green grass, spring is almost here, and I feel something being snatched away from me, while simultaneously it’s void is being filled with a type of constant happiness imposed upon me by the new “springly” atmosphere. That old, safe feeling, that hallowed mist is being lifted and the clouds don’t touch me anymore. Everything’s leaving.