I AM THE EARTH
my ex-roommate’s mother came to visit once. an expert on traditional chinese medicine.
she gave us all elements and humors
went round the dinner table, considering slowly - water. water. phlegmatic, both of you.
fire. definitely fire! choleric too. maybe metal.
she looked at me. earth. earth and melancholic.
there was no hesitation. it pours out of me, apparently. my melancholy.
perhaps not the first or second thing people notice, but probably the third.
the humors mean something different in qi, i’m sure.
something to do with being cold, cold and dry. not sad and desolate.
(but aren’t they really the same thing anyway?)
still; it felt like a diagnosis. you suffer from melancholy. everyone can see it.
it lives in you, in a little hollow spot under your ribs.
i suppose it’s true. i think a lot, i cry a lot, i sit by windows for hours.
i have tried to scream. i have tried to burn, to hold firm, to flow and be easy. it does not work.
i am the earth. i am melancholic.
h.e.a., 18, England ✯
“occasional writer & full-time virginia woolf enthusiast.”