I learned in the last few years - take note of the timeline - that when I'm feeling particularly sad, I get really tired. Like, out of the blue, I get sleepy, the kind of sleepy that can only be fixed by calling it a night.

I'm not sure why exactly, although I suppose you're not ought to dig deeper into how these things work for you, and most likely you alone. I once figured it's my body telling me I need to rest because it will be better tomorrow, or at least I will be able to think things through once I've had a chance to retreat and rest.

That said, I only became acutely aware of it in the last year or so. I think it's because I subconsciously tried not to look like I was having a bad day. I had this fear that if I hinted at that, then other people - you know, you know - would be dragged along with me as well. Or maybe that was never the case, that it was me explaining away why I should never feel bad. I felt everyone had something to say about why I should never throw tantrums or express my emotions. Or maybe it's because now I have a bit more freedom now and I can allow what I feel to bubble into the surface more... but then, you don't want the neighbors complaining, still.

Today, well, it didn't go as planned, but only because everything happened so fast that I realized I could've done things differently. My laptop finally conked out in a way that requires a stay at a repair shop, so I had it dropped off this afternoon, and then I was off to the mall for Allene's book signing. (I got her debut novel!) I was initially planning to walk - get myself some steps, be able to convincingly tell my doctor I haven't traded exercise for more sleep - but it rained all of a sudden, so I had to drive what I thought would be a two-kilometer, half-hour walk one way.

I knew the book launch was at four, so I bought a drink and waited a while, not realizing that the event was already happening right above me. The perils of being on time: there is the very small chance that things are ahead of schedule and you're late, more or less.

Everything went as planned nonetheless, but then I felt I was too ahead of schedule and maybe I should just go home, which means having to scramble for dinner instead of eating somewhere in the mall like I planned, and then, maybe I should've just walked instead especially since it didn't rain anyway. I spiral as I walk aimlessly, despite having ticked everything off the list, and a bowl of ramen - to take home, which wasn't the plan - put a stop to it.

But now I'm sleepy. It is just seven in the evening, and I took a nap this morning after doing my chores. Maybe it's because I didn't have coffee? I did buy myself cola to accompany my lunch, and there's caffeine in that, right? Or is it because I'm disappointed in how fast my day went? Or is this another one of those times when my lingering sadness comes to say hello? It's honestly getting hard to tell, especially now that I remember some people - you know, you know - tell me that I was never really depressed until a decade ago.

Again, I don't know where I'm going with this.

The funny thing is, I had an ending in mind. One of these days I will be able to split the difference. Something about how I have to live with this sadness for as long as I live and I will have to figure out when I'm really sad and when I'm really tired. But I guess all that went out of the window when I started to write about it, and everything went back up on the surface. Maybe it all worked better when I refused to acknowledge what I feel because I knew others would be inconvenienced? No, that isn't the way. But nobody really cares about what I feel, right? It's only about what they feel, never mind me, thank you, bye bye.