I mean, just look at the word: Melancholy. It sounds so poetic and beautiful, touched with sadness. But to actually feel melancholy is something else altogether.
I s'pose I started feeling sad early this evening; around 5:40 pm, when my parents came home. I was...erm... evacuating my bowels, shall we say. Then my parents walked in, but they were heavily laden with groceries, or something like that, and they needed help. Well, I couldn't very well go help them, could I? No! But they couldn't hear me, and my lazy, worthless, pathetic, stupid little sister wouldn't go, seemingly unaware of my inability to help. She was on the computer, and bei