Sometimes you just wake up and it’s rainy and it’s Monday and you want nothing more than to be your cat and take a nap on the couch. You wish you eschew all your responsibilities and instead sip tea and take a bath and pretend like you’re a woman in the 19th century who is trying to get over a broken heart. You’re feeling melancholy, emo even. Sometimes it can feel so deliciously good to lean into that. 

You go full ennui, draping yourself over the chaise longue and declining all your calls. You feel like you’re in a bad music video, looking out the window wondering why nobody understands your pain. It’s an indulgence of its own, to lean into your own sadness. But it’s almost like feeding the Babadook. You need to do it every once in a while or else it will come out in weird spurts and harm others around you.