sundays and everything in between

you get to wake up. eat breakfast. take a bath. grab a pack of cigarettes and brew coffee.hang out in the garden with a good book. you get to read two chapters, light another stick of cigarette, sip your coffee. read another chapter. scream for more coffee and begin to get bored. so you write. ending up writing a thousand beginnings and really going nowhere. write about emptiness... write about melancholy..write about silence. its so easy to fall when you are alone. easy to say you're life is meaningless because one sunday afternoon you got to do nothing but spend time with yourself. easy because you dont have to wear a mask tattoed on the forehead with blissful mantras of enlightenment and bliss. easy because despite of the clamour for aloneness you really got to need someone somehow... really got to long for something. so you pick up the phone, call someone and hang up midway at the second ring. hmmm... you can call for pizza delivery just to get to talk to someone... call the radio station for a song but that's really a no-no... call the telephone customer service operator and complain about how come you're voice sound so meek on their headsets. you give up and contemplate on going somewhere instead. stuff all of your things(toothbrush, pen and notebook) in the bag. lock the doors. put on the lights then bang your head on the wall because you remember your broke and the freaking machine ate your card yesterday. so you decide not to leave and its not really a decision out of choice. you turn on the t.v. and be happy knowing you got 4 bottles of strong beer in your freezer. be happy knowing the fact that your going away and returning happened in a span of 30 minutes. be happy because its about to rain. be happy because you know you can write a blog and be happy because you dont have to make any sense. sunday. i wish im somewhere. i wish im with someone