Sundays

I used to hate Sunday evenings because that’s when I felt the loneliest…Then I had a general embargo on ‘hate’ because it’s self-destructing and tiring…but today at least I’ve lifted that embargo and I hate Sunday evenings again.

Sunday mornings are great for a lie-in. It’s good to be single then, no one to tell you to make breakfast, no one to fight with over the best part of newspaper, no ‘Sunday morning’ sex duty.

In the afternoons, you may go to markets, have brunch with friends, see a film but in the evening, there is no denying that you are alone…

I am fed up with being alone. At times, every fibre of my body feels lonely…lately I’ve started imagining an invisible pair of arms hugging me at the worst of times, or I shift my weight to feel as if I recline on someone…

I guess this is what happens when I get tired, don’t feel well, then go out partying till the morning…the next day is always a down time…at times like this it’s easy to understand how people can be hooked on drugs and alcohol…the down can be unbearable. I write instead. I usually don’t put entries like this here. I am fed up with being so self-indulgent when unspeakably worse things go on in the world. But today I wanted to upload this, hoping that sharing even in this impersonal way will make me feel better.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s better to be alone than feel lonely in someone else’s presence. But ideal remains that, at least from time to time, there is someone special around who cares, someone who will want to learn about your inner most fears, secrets, joys; someone who will gently hold your held (or you’re your little finger) and sit there without saying anything; someone you’d let in that close. I wish I had the courage to let someone in that close…

Well, on the positive side, hating Sunday evenings makes one look forward to Mondays…which can’t be a bad thing…

Expect to read more depressing comments like this as I approach my 37th birthday...