Recovery?

You know, I thought that I had recovered my spoons on Sunday.

But after passing through the day that was yesterday, I'm not so sure.

On the second bus leg for my homeward bound trip, I started to tear up for seemingly no reason. It wasn't an all out eyes-bawling thing, but the kind of feeling one gets when struck by a sad memory from out of the blue.

There was, as far as I recall, no stimulus---I wasn't listening to a particularly moving piece, nor was I reading anything traumatic (like The Economist's coverage of the situation in Ukraine). Since ``TVMobile'' hasn't been a thing for more than ten years, and I was clearly not on my phone then, I wasn't watching anything particularly moving to trigger off that either.

I don't know... might it be because of some latent realisation that this life is all there is, and that it was increasingly more meaningless over time? Leaving the mortal coil seems to be preferable, and yet I cannot reconcile the equal outcome of offing myself versus dying through some self-unforeseen process---there seems to be some resistant (however minor) against offing myself as compared to the eerily calm acceptance of just dropping dead from something that I had no control over.

So irrational... so... human...

Anyway, random tearing and feelings of undescribable sadness. Not sure what was going on there.

Today's another day, and as I quickly scribble this down, I'm also in the process of getting dressed for work. Till the next update, I suppose.