Walking home after another long day at the office, I find myself sinking into that familiar pool of sadness. Somehow, it’s comforting. The streetlights above flicker on as twilight paints everything in shades of grey, and there’s something reassuring about it all. Like a gloomy, predictable friend who arrived without an invitation but never left. It’s funny how being sad makes me feel kinda safe sometimes, even though life isn’t too bad these days 😌.

Just the other day at work, during our team’s daily scrum meeting, I was overwhelmed by insignificant reminders of things that need my attention: deadlines looming like ominous clouds and project stakeholders spinning their wheels aimlessly. Yet beneath this layer of stress, there lies a peculiar tranquility as if encased within an invisible comfort blanket. My colleagues would probably think I'm odd admitting it...though they often seem preoccupied with their own SSRs (Silly Stressful Routines), running around like headless chickens.

It's almost humorous really; finding solace amidst melancholy when we're living in times where vibrant emotions should abound. Perhaps I romanticize gloom because it doesn't demand anything from me??? no Facetime conversations full of energy or obligatory dinner dates at fancy eateries (oh boy!). And here lies this subtle paradox I've grown fond of: embracing gentle despair while nurturing hope for brighter tomorrows in equal measure 🤔.

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