Musings on Melancholy

Lunam had so much faith in dictionaries. It always seemed like his source if truth, where every question was met with a precise answer. 

Hjolmar was not so straightforward. He never liked the wordy descriptions. For him, most things couldn't be that easily explained. The meaning to a word wasn't always the same to every person, and even the same person saw it differently after a time.

There was never an absolute for Hjolmar. Which is why he was always stumbling with words, finding himself frustrated in the middle of what seemed like normal conversations with Lunam.

Lunam would raise an eyebrow, a mix of patience and amusement showing in his face. And when Hjolmar would growl at him, he would only laugh. His laugh only made Hjolmar angrier, except... not really? He couldn't say why.

It just wasn't that easy to describe an emotion! It would have been easier if he could just make someone feel what he felt through some magic spell of transference. But with words, it was harder. Hjolmar tried to connect them to what he felt.

It was like he was high up in a tree, deep in the forest. He could see the river flowing for miles, and its sound blurred into the threads of the scene. Birds chirped overhead, where the sun was dithering on another rest, leaving an orange tinge in the sky. Rays of sunlight peeked through rustling leaves. In the shade, a cool breeze coaxed him to sigh along with the wind. 

Amidst the environing tranquility, his heart pounded as if this was the pinnacle of his existence. As if this was all he'd ever wanted, and all that was needed to complete him. 

Joy brimmed in him from the moment itself. But sorrow thundered in his chest like a muted typhoon. It made his heart race. For if this was his pinnacle, then the path ahead could only slope down. Once this moment ended, it would never come back. Because that's how pinnacles work. The prospect felt like a tragedy. One he couldn't stop no matter how hard he fought. It made him feel weak and helpless, and made tears fill his eyes.

And that made no sense! This was only a sunset in a forest-- One of many others! He shouldn't cry at the idea of losing it, simply because it is one of the things that seem so impossible to lose!

The confusion and the conflict had always left him unreasonably mad, although it was only a shallow anger. He learned not to trust the feeling whenever it came up. But its uninvited presence was worrisome. He couldn't help but be cautious.

Hjolmar wasn't good at words, and he wasn't good at explaining. But he knew how to speak the truth. This joy, sadness, anger, and fear of loss all mashed together into one. 

It was the feeling he got when he saw Lunam laugh.