melancholy

pink sunsets & pretty boys

"up on melancholy hill there's a plastic tree..."

summer was daniel's favourite time of year. he was the type of person that stayed in his apartment almost all year round, never talking to anyone, not even sparing a glance to his waving neighbours with bright smiles greeting him good morning whenever he did step foot out of his home. the only times he left the house were when he knew his neighbours wouldn't see him, at the frosty dawn up in the early morning, or the evening when the sky would be shining in hues of oranges, pinks, every colour imaginable. at those times he would dash out of the house in the direction of the long field behind his apartment building, camera clutched in his hand, ready to capture the vibrant colours and frame it on his wall, among other very similar pictures taken from over the years. when the sunset was going down quick, he would run as fast as he could, the grip on his camera tightening so hard that his knuckles would turn a ghostly white. as soon as the camera would click, he would quickly run back to the building as to escape the cold autumn breeze or the snow that would start to gently fall onto the earth. he absolutely despised the other seasons, none of them possessing the feeling of thrill and freedom that summer had. his job was hell, and people were hell. 

the other three seasons were hell too. spring, as people told him, was a season of love and happiness, and that he should be happy the cold winter was over. that he should be glad the snow had melted now it was warmer. and to that daniel would call bullshit because it was still absolutely freezing and the only good thing about spring was the sakura trees down by the park that would blossom into beautiful pink petals. the sight of the little specs of pink floating around in the air was such a sight to see, another scene to be captured, printed and framed up on his apartment wall. that was the only thing that daniel liked about spring though. autumn was what he liked to call "death." everything would get cold, leaves would die, trees would go bare, the sky was just a grey blanket of boring, and all the animals would hibernate. what was there to like about autumn? absolutely nothing. and winter was just an even more extreme version of winter to daniel. it was even colder and the days were even shorter. waking up to a dark sky was not his favourite, and walking in inches upon inches of snow was not his cup of tea either. dan didn't understand how people could play in the frosty white cold like it was the greatest thing in the world. while all his neighbours were out enjoying the snow, daniel would sit in his bay window wrapped up in about ten blankets, watching snowballs being thrown to and fro, shivering when one hit the back of old steve's neck and slid down the back of his winter coat. why people could stay out in weather like that, daniel would never understand because while they're outside in the cold he's freezing his ass up in here wrapped in blanket upon blanket as he was too lazy to actually get up and turn his heating on. 

another thing that daniel hated was the night. something about the way it hid all those pretty colours apperearing rarely in the evening sky as fast as the would come. the blanket of navy, almost black, with specks of stars from millions of miles away sewn into it did not impress him in the slightest. he hated the way the sun, which barely showed up in his town but when it did it was bliss to him, would disappear to go shed light on another part of the world, as if it was tired of all the boring faces that rumbled around their little corner of the earth. not to mention the fact that dan would spend all night up sketching or painting, as he couldn't sleep at night. images of a young boy with an awfully familiar face slitting his wrists with a pair of scissors and a scene of the same person jumping off a bridge. now who was that young man, daniel could not recall. oh yes. his brother. how could he forget. family was another reason dan hated himself. he'll never forget the look on his mother and father's faces when he told them he was leaving after the death of his younger brother. they could not bare to lose another child and yet he walked out the door just like that. pleads and cries of his parents would ring through his mind as he remembered the day he left that town, still hating himself for causing his mother and father pain. they would call him almost every day, frantically over and over, yet dan never picked up. nowadays they never call, tired of waiting for their son to pick up after years and years of disappearing. and daniel hated himself for it.