Not in the best of moods, not sure why.

I could blame the facekini.

Just based on the word, you would expect it to be a bikini for your face, right?

And you would be right.

Chinese people are wearing masks made of bikini type material to the beach in order to avoid tanning, because right now in China, pale skin is considered attractive.

This is what that looks like.

Now if I saw people on the beach dressed like that, my first thought would not be “Oh look, Chinese people looking to avoid the sun. ”

I would think “Holy crap, Nazi Beach Commandos! Where the hell is Hasselhoff when you need him?”

And I will admit, I have old fashioned ideas about what the beach is for, but seriously, if you are going to wear a mask to avoid the sun, why go to the beach? Isn’t there a cave you could crouch in with your vampire friends, or maybe an indoor pool with no windows?

Sunshine is, to me, a basic part of the beach experience. You swim, you snack, you hydrate, and you bake your body on the sand, getting the effect of a dry sauna without the risk of meeting weird old Scandinavian guys who ply you with strange liqueurs and take advantage of you without ever even calling make or even a note once in a while for God’s sake.

So while the facekini is not likely directly contributing to my feeling down, perhaps a lack of sunshine is at least part of it. I spend so much of my time indoors that I only ever get direct sunlight when I am walking to or from Joe’s car, and that is really sad.

It could be possible to have seasonal affective depression in the middle of summer, with a life like mine.

And lately when it is nice out, I find myself looking out my bedroom window at that sun drenched world full of happy people enjoy the wonderful weather, and I ask myself, “Why can’t that be me? What is wrong with me that I can’t be part of that world? Why am I inside and sitting in front of this damned computer when I could be out there having fun and enjoying the real world?”

And of course, there is no simple answer for that. A lot holds me back. This ice cage of fear around my heart that keeps me frozen deep, far away from the world, has many locks and many keys.

In some ways, it is simpler to melt the cage than to pick the locks. Simpler, but not easier. Picking the locks is what therapy is all about. You painstakingly unlock all those padlocks of frozen emotion around your heart, with the progress being slow and the effort being continuous and painful and harrowing.

Melting the cage, on the other hand, is simple. Just let warmth into your heart and the cage melts on its own, big sheets of ice falling off and crashing to the ground inside you, melting away forever.

Easier said than done, though. First, you need a powerful source of warmth, and if depression and fear have had you in their grips for a long time, you are certainly not going to be able to generate that warmth all by yourself.

And honestly, depressive people are not easy to be around, so you might not have much luck attracting the kind of personal warmth you need or keeping it around for long enough. The kind of warm outgoing people that might generate the sort of personal warmth you need tend to find depressed people, well, depressing, and do not hang around us long. They thrive on interaction and we do not give much back.

The second factor is worse, though : you might be surrounded by warm, helpful people who would love to help you, but you cannot feel their warmth through the ice around your heart. If it is thick enough, the ice “protects” you from the warmth, not the other way around.

And so you conclude that nobody cares about you because you cannot feel their warmth, because that is easier to take than the realization that lots of people care about you and you are just too damned numb to feel it right now.

Looking back at my own life, I know there was people who tried to help me. But they couldn’t, not really, I was too far gone, lost inside my endless icy plains and frozen towers, and the best that they could do was shout down the well and hope I would hear them and respond.

I feel bad for whatever I cost those people. It cannot be easy trying to reach me, especially when I did not even realize anyone was trying at all. I am sure I left some people with a hoarse voice and a curious case of frostbite for their efforts. If so, I am truly sorry.

But you have to understand, it is worse for me on the inside than for you healthy people on the outside.

This is why I worry about how I interact with people, though. I know that I could, were I less self-aware, just plain suck someone dry via the void inside me, or even just casually and thoughtlessly freeze someone through their very core with a glimpse into my true self.

A starving vampire am I, one who is terrified of the depth of his hunger, and afraid to get close to anyone lest he lose control and drain them of their precious, precious life warmth.

So I keep people at arm’s length and dwell on the Internet, which is mostly fantasy and imagination anyhow, and stay in my cold little realm, and with the help of my therapist, pick away at those locks.

And maybe when enough of them have fallen away from this lonely heart of mine, I will be able to go out into that sunlit world and find the deep warmth that I really need.

And finally, my heart will know springtime.