Hello darkness, my old friend

I've got The Blues, again. Actually, The Blues have got me. They arrived, unannounced and uninvited, and, as usual, I never know exactly how long they plan to stay. They seem to have made themselves comfortably at home, this visit, unpacking their heavy bags, and filling the closets with secret, scary belongings.

The Blues like things dark and colorless and quiet, so when they're here, I turn off the music, shut the blinds, stop buying flowers, and tiptoe around the house, in my pajamas. I no longer call my friends and try not to laugh out loud, for fear of waking them up. They are creatures of the night, and want to have endless, existential conversations, with me, long after everyone else is asleep. 

I've tried hinting that my heart and home belong to a gentle, loving man and a bright-eyed, beautiful boy and that I am too busy to host such demanding, difficult guests, but that hasn't stopped them from showing up, at our door. We go back a long way, The Blues and I, and both habit and loyalty, make it impossible for me to turn them away.

One day, when I'm stronger and wiser, I'll tell them that they are no longer welcome to stay. "Let's meet for a coffee, or a drink, instead," I'll suggest. We'll talk about life and old times. Then we'll hug and go our separate ways.