Melancholy Man

When returning to the UK after living abroad I found myself in a state of perpetual boredom and loneliness. I grieved. I was a death in my life. I sat around for hours, thinking, waiting, mourning. Doing things that grieving people do. The long British winter laid an appropriate weight over my shoulders. I had lost someone, someone dear. All I had to do was stand up and start searching, building, moulding myself back into who I was so proud of only a few months back. But I didn’t, I sat, uncomfortable, staring off into rooms that didn’t exist. A permanent burden on the chairs I resigned myself into. Resting my heavy head, my weary arms until I was ready to pick up my sculpting tools again.