...a gloomy peace this morning with it brings.
-William Shakespeare
The first time I played Pokemon, I was sitting a old and comfortable reclining chair in the upstairs living room of Aaron Carlson's house. Well, his parents' house, I guess. I cannot remember for the life of me if it was his copy or if it was his brother Mat's. But I do remember an Arbok--named Edward Mon--a Wartortle, a Dugtrio, two others, and a Gloom.
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| ©Kawiko, DeviantArt |
At six years old, I had no idea that Gloom was a separate noun first, and a pokemon second. I just thought it was some sad, depressed plant that poisoned it's opponents. Or drained them of life while feeding their own dark wishes. Or paralyzed them. Or sent them into an undesired sleep. Or spit toxic acid in their face.
Only now, nearly twenty years later, do I realize that Nintendo's frightening creation is an apt representation of what it feels like to be saturated in gloom, in partial darkness, in despondency.
The snow is heavy beyond the window.
And I worry that as soon as I take a step beyond the building, my whole body will cave in and collapse.
The dreariness of the day is frightening and gray, tastes like musk and sand. I'm not feeling optimistic about the spring. Breathe in, breathe out: it has to end eventually.
The snow and rain and cold: perfect cuddle weather.
And that's the hardest part.
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