Reader, considering you are not me it would be unfair to judge this conclusion as lacking in logic: you find warmth which emanates from a Netflix-projecting screen and a lover’s shoulder to be the best defenses against unexpected springtime showers. And even these defenses, so vital to maintaining the smile you deem vital to your existence, are nowhere near a satisfying replacement for time beneath what you perceive to be a glorious sun.
To you, reader, with your closet want of singed hoodies and burdened with meticulously lint rolled cardigans, I cannot relate. I do not cower from the Gloom. Nay, I embrace her with a hurried stroll past brightly lit Gap and Forever 21-like storefronts to take shelter under the roof of my beloved black umbrella: Hot Topic.
The Finnish lords and saviors whose hit single “Killing Loneliness” contains the secret to living: find one with a venomous kiss to kill loneliness.
It is in my faux brick abode–not a home away from home, for my assigned home and its inhabitants think me a parasite who takes delight in bloating itself with grimaces at my tenacious maintenance of distance achieved through the constant clogging of my ears with little white buds (and I do take delight), but a true home–that I am not only able to feel Gloom’s embrace, but am also able to take steps in becoming luscious Gloom herself (and to those with complaints concerning the complexity of the sentence preceding this parenthetical, you are not worthy of comprehending me. Yes, my therapist and a few family members and everyone I know theorize my complicated sentences stem from a deep-seeded wish to not be seen, not be heard. To them I exclaim: phooey! I am educated and demonstrating it is what I am doing. Surely, it is what I am doing).
Ach! Reader, the complaints I predicted you’d spew have forced my train of thought to topple and crumple into a metal turd.
Where was I? Where was I?
Ah, yes, taking steps in becoming luscious Gloom herself.
Gloom. Whom is this mighty teacher leaving steps to be followed? This fountain of knowledge spilling lessons in gray?
Reader, you and your vitamin D-packed body are ignorant to this almighty being’s existence, this wondrous and wholly holy Gloom! But I assure you a listen to the Gloom’s gospel will quickly unmask the jolly tendencies you maintain, show them as the pitiful actions of one unable to handle the horrid truths of the world.
The deliverer of this gospel, the paver of my way to a seat next to Gloom?
Why, it is none other than HIM. Not Him, the He whose gospel says, “Wear cardigans and soak in the glory of the sun I created,” but HIM, the Finnish lords and saviors whose hit single “Killing Loneliness” contains the secret to living: find one with a venomous kiss to kill loneliness and enjoy Gloom with. I know my kiss is venomous. All I need is one with lips as poisonous as mine.
Snake bite piercings filled with venom, a greasy mop signifying acceptance as a stain on this stain we call Earth, and a HIM tee showing devotion to the same Finnish lords–this is who HIM has been leading me to all along. And he is shuffling in my direction as I speak, hardly picking up his feet much like me because why put effort into a world that puts no effort into me (I mustn’t forget to tweet that).
As his presence grows with shaved distance I notice the salt in the pure pepper I thought was his hair. I’ve always felt my physical youth betrayed my centuries of experience as a being, a phenomenon made possible by HIM whose songs, so rich with meaning and power chords, provide one with decades of experience in under five minutes. Perhaps a man with gray on his head is all that can satisfy a woman with a head packed with gray.
He begins to speak, a voice which gripped my throat in such a way only HIM has been able to do: “Hi, I’m Ron, Ron Chester. I saw the tour dates on the back of your hoodie and just had to come say hello. It’s not everyday you run into another HIM fan.”
“Y-yeah. I love them. They’re great. ‘Killing Loneliness' is, like, beautiful, you know?”
“It is. I do. You wouldn’t mind if I used you to kill some of my loneliness would you?”
I could only nod.
And together we stood, eyes scanning the wall of shirts decorated with rubbery blood and leaking hearts.
Reader, you may say it was us against the world, but we were bigger than the world. It was the world against us, two who showed wallowing is the only way to truly enjoy life. Imagine if I enjoyed sunshine. I would have never found Ron. There are no Ron's roaming under sunlight, much like there are no Brontë's in cardigans seeking tan lines. Only in the genuine darkness of a Hot Topic could we find each other. Only with the help of HIM could we have found each other and achieved perpetual gloominess.
I thank thee, almighty HIM, almighty Gloom.