Isn’t it funny that the second most popular reason people lock themselves for in a toilet is crying? Not quite the conventional number two I guess. Anyway.  

It was Tuesday last week when I barely managed to close the door behind me before bursting into tears. It’s been quite some time now that my visits to the lavatory consisted of liquid release from the upper part of my body instead of the more traditional lower body functionality. The reason for these visits is yet to be clearly identified but according to my ex-girlfriend these are “signs of depression” and I should seek professional help.  

What’s really depressing is that she thought of me in that manner.   

As I was standing in the toilet cubicle trying to get my breathing back, a weird smell made me realize that the person before me didn’t flush. What a shit situation to be in. I released the artificial waterfall, opened the window and sat down to regroup. 

I hate my job but I’m too afraid to leave the comfort of a steady salary. I attend Friday night drinks with my colleagues to tick the “cultural fit” box for my yearly evaluation. I hate watching reality TV but I don’t have the willpower to stop myself from doing so. I never really wanted to go to Marbella, but did anyway because the water cooler convo usually goes more like “rose at the pool in Marbs” rather than “sake at a Buddhist temple in Tokyo.” I’m passionate about books but not disciplined enough to finish reading them. I laugh hard at Jimmy Carr one liners. The lamer the joke, the harder I laugh. I actually don’t like the artisan pizza place in Soho where people queue for hours and I find ramen disgusting. Money always finds a way to escape me – a constant battle between savings and cravings. Women enjoy sleeping with me but none of them want to wake up next to me.  

At this point someone else entered the room. How long was I in there for? The door closes and even though my tears had dried, my thoughts kept on running. For the next 10 minutes I went through family members I will disappoint, dreams that’s too late to fulfill and resentment over missed opportunities.  

I tucked my shirt in my trousers and rejoined the world with an amiable ambiance.