Sunny

On gray, wet days I’m completely gone—depressed, dark thoughts, the whole spiral. The world looks grim. Everything feels impossible. Then the sun comes out and something just flips. Suddenly I’m convinced I could take over the world. The sky is blue and infinite. I love every creature on this planet, even the ones that were making me miserable five minutes earlier. Everything becomes beautiful and worth being part of.

It’s completely irrational. Nothing changed except the light. The problems didn’t go anywhere. But apparently whether I feel alive or dead depends entirely on the angle of the sun, and I’ve stopped pretending that’s something I can fix. That’s just how I’m built.