Bleh

It’s summer here. By media accounts, I should be thrilled with the sunny weather and opportunities to go outdoors. I should be wearing flip-flops and shorts. Or sundresses. My family should be having picnics and throwing water balloons. Oh, the picture perfect media portrayal of Americana.

Instead, I’m staying indoors because the sunlight gives me migraines. The “warmth” causes my body to rebel. If I wore flip-flops, I’d be face down on the ground in no time. Dresses? I avoid them. Family? Working too hard to have a leisurely picnic.

So, my mood is bleh. It’s not melancholy, for that would imply some degree of sadness. It’s not depressed. It’s just bleh,

Not living up to the expectations set by the media isn’t such an awful thing. Honestly, I think they just want me to pursue their dream down to my last penny. Accepting that the hype doesn’t equal reality is a major step toward believing your life is just fine. When your life revolves around needing to fit someone else’s portrayal, you lose the chance to make your own memories.

So, bleh it is. My own bleh, not someone else’s. And that’s okay.

 

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