Literature of the Black Atlantic

Like a contagious cold that spreads in the dark, dead months of winter, the "blues" infect indiscriminately and are eventually caught by everyone. Sometimes they last only a day, and other times they are more severe- lasting weeks upon weeks. Like a cold, the blues are never truly the same each time they come, and there are all different strains of blues: the "I don't know what I am doing with my life" blues, the "I just got dumped by my boyfriend" blues, the "I spent two days studying and still failed my exam" blues, or even the "just really frazzled and stressed out" blues. Lately, I get the blues when I think about all the years with my family I should spent cherishing, instead of wishing I could get away; it gives me the blues to think that it one day might be rare to spend a day, let alone a whole summer, with my three siblings. But like the cold, cured with rest, medicine, and some tea with honey, the blues are eventually healed. Though there is a good chance I will catch the blues again, I know that, as always, I will bounce back strong and ready to experience life.