I was working non-stop. Regular shifts plus picking up extra shifts; Stressful workload; Demanding patients and family; Understaffed; Lazy staff; I just had a lot going on in my plate and on that one certain day where I was supposed to just sleep it off and be lazy, I needed a breather.

 I hopped on the 1000h train to Central London, hoping to find my refuge there. I was hoping this would work cause for the past months that I’ve been going through something big, going there and walking along the busy streets somehow distracted, and nonetheless healed my distorted thoughts.

I thought to myself, why don’t I take my camera and maybe rekindle my hobby in photography. 

I was crying in the train. Good thing the seat beside me was empty or else whoever’s sittng beside me would think I was crazy. It was a solid spot though, having a moment in a running train by the window. I got down at Fenchurch Street, decided to hover at Tower Bridge and watch the tourists take pictures/selfies    It was a busy day, just as I pictured it. It was perfect. I also found my own little nook in here I guess it’s safe to say that times like these made me feel more human, and normal, and more importantly, it reminded me to slow down and give myself time to get out of the auto pilot mode and feel, breathe. 

While having a moment, I also made a list of places I could visit. It feels weird because the more I keep myself busy with new sights and scenes, the more I could think and let go.  

 And then guess what, I didn’t move at all despite the long list. In my deep thinking, I realized I wanted the bed more than moving. So, I just went home. What a total waste. 

In the end, I discovered the real reason why I was such a weirdo. PMS. 

-A.