When I'm melancholy I'm okay with the emotion. I take it as my body and brain saying that I need rest and a chance to feel joy doing whatever I find fun. It is tiredness and when we are tired, rest is wise - being good to yourself is good.
The melancholy gives away the exit even as it pretends it isn't there, softly calling me away from all that brings real joy. It tells me that I can't ask for a hug, reach for the sunshine, or take a walk among the soft hymn of trees, hearing how the wind plays in the leaves.
This melancholy is a cloak I can't simply let fall to the floor, and though I hold it so tight I can't find the warmth I need, yet it clings. It is the anchor to my feet, the reason I can't find the surface or the sunshine, that feeling of soft joy that lives in memories that can't rise within.
My emotions are more stable than most because they sit either side of neutrality. Most of the time I feel happiness as being "content" and sadness as "melancholy." Because they aren't extremes I recover from the lower states quicker. I am able to carry on more easily. Those that aim for higher happiness often suffer lower lows, or at least it appears that way from my point of view. Anyway, that's me.