Sunday Night Sadness

It is one of those nights again.

Two words come to mind: lethargic, as DJ would say, and languorous, which according to Google means “oppressive stillness.” Now isn’t that accurate?

It must be the loneliness, I don’t know, but I don’t even have the energy to write anything tonight. I’ve been collecting sadness though, and I’ve been disposing them onto my sketchpad. Go and have a look. And if you don’t mind, dear stranger, please send hugs if you could. 😦


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Sunday Dress

Sunday night I catch myself watching The Office while nibbling on Skittles and downing the decadent beads of sugar with tepid green tea. I am moving to a new city tomorrow yet here I am doing nothing, just bumming around like some chubby Norse god who lost his will to be.

But you really have to start packing, I remind myself. My new place — a tiny room in the basement of an old house along a quiet, tree-lined street — is ready for occupancy tomorrow. The landlady and I have already agreed on a move-in time. Everything is set, actually, except for my luggage that remains empty.

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March

I watched six movies this month. Five out of six were romance films; the odd one out was Captain Marvel.

I didn’t write notes about these movies. I didn’t even think about them that much. I needed to rest my mind; I had enough shit to worry about this month.

When I watched Alone/Together I cried practically the entire time. I didn’t, no — I couldn’t think too much about the film. I don’t even remember anything about it; I just know that the tears started pouring the moment I saw CAL.

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On mortality

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This morning, I woke up to the news that K’s dad had passed away. So it goes.

I was surprised when my phone rang at around 9am. It was S, and she asked me if I had read K’s text. I said no, I just woke up. S said she wasn’t sure if K was joking and I groggily asked, “Joking about what?”

“Her dad’s dead,” S said.

Fuck.

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