Depression on a Monday: My Struggle with Productivity

Tianxianzi

2026-01-22

It’s been a tough day. After finishing my work early, I drove to the switch room and stayed there until around two in the morning. Playing with the lights, switching them on and off, it felt oddly satisfying. I had half a bottle of wine and was playing with some old photos when the phone rang. It was my roommate, just checking if I was still there. “You should come back,” he said, which made me feel even more depressed.

The next morning found me in bed at eleven because I couldn’t get out of bed after midnight. The sky was gray and overcast, the wind howling through the open window. I felt like I was stuck inside a black-and-white movie frame, floating on a silver surface. Everything looked dull, lifeless, and I kept thinking about the people outside who were probably doing something useful or happy.

I tried to get out of bed but just sat there staring at the ceiling. My legs felt heavy, my joints stiff, and my arms weren’t moving properly. I wanted to get up and do somethingit could be anythingjust break free from this silence. But everything I thought about made me feel worse. The radio was on, broadcasting the news non-stop, talking about the economy, politics, weather… it felt like a machine. I wanted nothing to do with it.

I hate Mondays. The first thing I do when I get out of bed is check my phone. It’s not that I don’t have things to doI have everything I needbut there’s something else in my heart that wants me to be busy, doing something productive or creative. But Mondays are like a checklist; they don’t care what you do. They just exist.

I took the metro into the city, which was crowded and chaotic. The train doors opened, and hundreds of people spilled out. My bag fell open, spilling my lunch onto the subway floor. I missed my seat by an arm’s length, and someone sat there anyway. Two hours later, I was back home, and my bag was still sitting on the subway floor. The city didn’t seem any better than it did two hours ago.

I took a taxi to aFive-star hotel because I had nothing else to do or eat. I checked into my room and tried to zone out by scrolling through my phone. My eyes crossed at the sight of the menuso many options! But every time I looked, I felt like crying. What was the point? The only thing that didn’t make me feel so alone was the mirror in the bathroom.

I took off my shoes and sat on the tiled floor to get a better look at myself. My face was messed up from the makeup and hair gel. I scrolled through my phone for the nth time, but it just made me want to cry harder. I bought some tissues to wipe away the tearsthat’s all I could do.

I took a taxi back to the hotel, trying not to cry as I walked. When I got to my room, I tried to zone out by scrolling through my phone again. The mirror felt warmer than before, but my face was still messed up. I sat on the floor, staring at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t look away from the weirdness in my face. It was like I had a twin sitting inside me, laughing at everything I did.

I took off my shoes again and sat on the tiled floor to get a better look at myself. My face was messed up from the makeup and hair gel. I scrolled through my phone for the nth time, but it just made me want to cry harder. I bought some tissues to wipe away the tearsthat’s all I could do.

I took off my shoes again and sat on the tiled floor to get a better