As human beings, we have to express our emotions, or we’ll get cancer even more than we just do in general. For this reason, when I felt the need to mope and agonize upon finding out that the down-to-earth model I thirst-follow on Instagram has a boyfriend, I was ready to do just that…. except I couldn’t. That’s right: I find myself in the most undesirable of positions imaginable. I want to brood but I live nowhere near the moors.
The air is damp, the wind whipping and chilly. This weather combined with the heartbreak of unrequited parasocial love has got me ripe for brooding, but how can I? I look around me and I see no temperate grasslands, no thin soil, no rolling fog. Do you think I’m just going to brood in my local park surrounded by strollers, dogs, and no ghosts? Get real. I need the wily, windy moors and I need them stat.
Seriously, is there a shuttle that runs from here to West Yorkshire?
Of course, many people will try to point out alternate brooding locales. They’ll say, “Can’t you brood on a train while watching raindrops roll down the window?” Um…no. That’s melancholic dwelling, and there’s a time and a place for it, but it’s not what the doctor ordered. Brooding is more aggressive and requires an expansive landscape, in which one could walk for miles, upturned-collar no match for the gray and despairing oppressive sky.
Give me pathetic fallacy or get out of the way!
Sorry, that was a little much, but it’s all this pent-up brooding energy. I need some relief, and the closest thing I’ve got to a moor is the really big parking lot by my local Home Depot.
Will you help a brooder out here??
So anyway, if you’re in the English or Welsh moors, thanks for reading my housing swap ad! As I mentioned, my town has a great Home Depot and an annoying park. Talk soon!