95% of the sky

Growing up in England forced me to become well acquainted with the endless shades of grey that filled the sky. Small fluctuations in brightness marked the clouds passage — brief moments where you become aware of, yet not touched by the sun’s energising presence, which are quickly snatched away by a slightly darker shade of cloud.

There is nothing ominous about overcast weather (though Google Images disagrees). It is a bland nothingness, a constant dullness. Sometimes it is comforting, sometimes perpetually depressing and gloomy. Constancy is like that, bringing either warmth or coldness; not an intense coldness; more like a constant unpleasant breeze.

These clouds seem a good representation of me, or rather my current, albeit it constant mood. I do not find myself falling into the deep, cataclysmic sadness or anger that so many face; there is a dull quality to my mood. It lacks momentary intensity; its intensity is in its persistence. Occasionally I feel I grasp a moment of joy, clarity, or at least a distraction from the sky (e.g. a conversation); the sun peeking through, only to return to my overcast reality. I can never catch up with the clouds, never outrun them; it is not a matter of effort. I do not understand why they remain, or how they formed — I am not a meteorologist. I only know that they are there. They shouldn’t be there. The forecast predicted blue sky; it is meant to be summer after all.

They shouldn’t be there. It is the frustration of a cloudy July. I have been cheated, this is not how it was supposed to go.

Sometimes I suspect I might be deluding myself, that the clouds might not actually be there, and I am seeing nothing but phantoms. Perhaps there is actually a blue sky but I’m too conceited to realise it. I can only see clouds. The land however, looks sunny. Much around me is coated in an iridescent glow, with the occasional shadow. How is it that everything around me appears sun-bleached, but when I look up all I see is grey. It is worse than unfair; it is incomprehensible.

I cannot get rid of the clouds, yet I desperately want to. I long for the day when they dissipate or burst, and allow me to feel the warmth of the sun again.