Today wasn't horrible, not outrightly at least. It was the kind of day where you start off feeling almost awesome, but activities (or lack of) and people and your thoughts take so much out of you as you go along. Nothing major happens and you don't think you're upset, but for a moment you note the way your mood has gotten slowly, but progressively worse. It's the end of the day, and you can't understand why, but you're too tired to handle being where you are. At the same time, you also can't bring yourself to make your way home. You think that crawling into a box just so you can be alone to think, or not think, sounds so goddamn appealing, if not a little weird. You don't see any spare boxes lying around though, so you decide that the hour's worth of sleep you could get as the MRT trundles all the way to your home on the other end of the island, yeah that could work too.

I hate how subtly horrible days are the most difficult.