Is it a weepie, then?

Lately I've been feeling a deep melancholy. Probably I've felt it most of my life, but meds have kind of erased it the last few years, although it pops up now and again. I've settled into it; it's like finding your old favorite t-shirt at the bottom of the closet and, even though it has stains or holes, you wear it for days because it's so comfy and familiar. This time though, I see that it has stains but choose to wear it anyway. Knowing that the melancholy isn't really a response to life events, but rather more of a phantom that settles in, doesn't keep me from enjoying the feeling. (Yes, enjoying - wallowing? Whatever) But more important is not letting it take over, operating from outside of it, observing that you're wearing a torn shirt and enjoying it on some level but moving on independent of that fact. Aaaah, I'm trying to explain but it's not working. In any case, I see that it's occurring to me, but isn't me, and isn't really part of me. Any better? Best guess is that it gives me an excuse to feel sorry for myself even when there isn't anything to feel sorry for myself about. So I'll let it linger for a bit, like a good cry in a sad movie, then kick it to the curb and wear a clean shirt again.