I just got back after a week away (for work), which included a full day of R&R in a colonial city by a volcano, a perfect cone overlooking streets filled with blooming jacaranda trees. I still feel detached. When I start to think too much, to feel too much, the gremlins in my head start talking – “You could be replaced by a brick and nobody would even notice the difference.” Is this depression talking? I tell myself it’s not true even though, at the deepest level, it feels true.
It’s been so dry, but now it’s raining. I wore sandals today and left my raincoat at home. It doesn’t matter. “Since I gave up hope, I feel a lot better.”
I don’t want to be so melancholy. Or do I?