spring, oh spring.

I heard about autumn and winter depression. Something about not enough sunlight or as such. I can understand that, ok.
But I – some lunatic I am – have a spring depression. And every year, when flowers are starting to bloom, I fall into that melancholic, miserable state and remain in it until first leafs become yellowish around the edges.
My condition only worsens, when I see that everybody else seems to enjoy themselves. Wearing hideous swimsuits, sunbathing to the kinda orange color, going to the sea.
While I stay with my pale – somewhat blueish – skin, stiff upper lip and long-sleeves.
No, that year I decided – enough is enough. I will drag myself – by the hair if necessary – from the house into some tennis court. Buy auto-tan or something similar. And wear the dress. You know, that summer-like kind of dress.
After one day outside I developed the rash all along my arms and legs. Even my neck.
It seems – or at least doctors say so – I’m allergic to the sun.
To the sun.
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I really really want to live on the Moon.