I woke up this morning feeling depressed.
It’s one of those days when all the little things that niggle at your life suddenly rear up and scream for attention in unison.
It could be a tiny thing like that scratch on the corner of your mobile phone that’s been bugging you.
Or you didn’t like the way your hair looked when you woke up this morning.
By themselves, these trivial things don’t matter. Life goes on, so what?
But there are days when all these trivials decide to gang up and crowd your amygdala (the part of the brain that controls emotions) all at once, rendering you helpless and handicapped without reason.
You know you’re feeling depressed but you don’t really know why, so you search deep within yourself to ascertain the cause.
The answer comes back: “Cos you forgot to wash your favourite top last week so you can’t wear it today.”
And you’re, like, “What the hell?”
Why should anyone get depressed over that?
More answers come in:
“Cos you overslept by half an hour today.”
“Cos MRT commuters are so inconsiderate.”
And you’re, like, “Get out of here.”
You can’t comprehend the depression because the still sane part of you believes there is no reason to be depressed just because your room is a mess.
Yet, the soul has suddenly lost the ability to cope with trivials, the way an Aids victim has lost the ability to fight biological afflictions that are normally negligible.
When days like this happen, you want to curl up and die. But the annoyingly sane part of you says no, so you get out of the house and life goes on.
And then you spend $4.50, sit in a quiet cafe, and you blog.
And you blog about something entirely different from what you set out to blog about in the first place.