Grey

The worst color is grey. Honestly, what other color can evoke such melancholy feelings. I can be surrounded by loved ones and plenty of occupations to keep me busy, but still I find myself in my own world feeling melancholy and lonely. No matter what excuses I give myself to be happy, I find ways to regret the past and dismally look into the future. My whole soul heaves of weariness and no matter what consolation I receive, I feel alone. Because I know that things will never be what they used to be. And though this may be a tragedy, I know deep down, it's a good thing. I know logically, these changes make me stronger. I know logically, I'll come out a better person. Logic doesn't make me hurt any less. Sometimes I need a good cry, sometimes I can't squeeze out a tear. Sometimes I cry to God, sometimes it feels he isn't near. Some days, I look for understanding. On others, I feel as though no one understands. Maybe I'm just a teenager, maybe I'm crazy. At any rate, I love the rain, but loathe the grey. I love traveling, I hate leaving. I feel as though my heart is scattered across the world. Part of me in Georgia, part in Connecticut. Part of me longs for the carefree days in Hawai'i surrounded by the protecting ocean. A greater part still longs for the trees and cozy feeling of home in Washington. I long for Japan, with its unexplored frontier with my brothers and my parents warm embrace. Yet still another longs for Wyoming, with it's open plains, and tall mountains and powerful wind and...home. Perhaps on these grey days I long for home. But if home is where the heart is I'm torn in a million different directions. And thus I sit on these grey days wondering about the hole I feel, exacerbated by the drizzly situation outside, hoping that I can find peace on some patch of land somewhere in the wide world, without the aching longing that fills me at this moment.