Life is, by its very nature, full of twists and turns. It rises, it falls, and rarely proceeds in anything resembling a straight line.
There are days when some small thing is enough to make us think, “That was a good day,” and feel absurdly pleased with ourselves.
And then there are days when something equally trivial is enough to send us crashing down, wondering whether we ought to be alive at all.
Either way, when measured against the vast scale of an entire life, such moments are no more than the slightest bumps and hollows along the way.
At present, I am writing this article while feeling more profoundly dejected than I have in quite some time.
For I have realised it.
There is a hole in my sock.
And I only noticed after arriving at work.
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