I entered the vast, warmly lit music shop hand-in-hand with mum; dad trailing behind, hands clasped behind his back. My inner fervour was deeply masked with anxiety. The company was intimidating: full-grown adults on leather wheelie stools testing out expensive-looking guitars, staff in their chinos and black t-shirts sweeping by to deliver customers a lighter pick, a thicker drumstick, a more flexible bow.

I had no idea about all this at the time. My mind was fixed on finding the coolest, most show off-able instrument to accompany my hipster new hobby, and I beelined towards my objective: the violins.

Recently I’ve been reading widely on stuff that heightens my perspective.

It feels like taking a good, hard look at the bedroom I’ve built over the last two years – a meticulously arranged space of curated tokens meant to represent myself at a glance to chance visitors – and being momentarily satisfied, only to brush by a shelf and find my shoulder stained with dirt.

In July 2021, Anna Akana uploaded a YouTube video titled after a New York Times article, ‘There’s a name for the blah you’re feeling’. It’s an introduction to languishing, the next hot pandemic-fuelled mood disorder, the new hire among old hats such as depression, anxiety and burnout.

It certainly resonated with me, a 20-something who had her arm raised, proudly poised to stake her flag into a life peak, only to land it in this mountain of poop called a pandemic.