Highway to Monday

Sundays’ gone. He had thought of calling a couple of times, he hadn’t yet. He couldn’t do anything right, not his work, his relationships weren’t any better, his friendships were crumbling……… he blamed the distance on his failed relations, it helped a little. He was becoming too tolerant of his ills; indulgences helped him create this facade of a man who had everything held together.

It was a quarter past midnight and insomnia was getting the best of him. He wanted to sleep but his voices wouldn’t stop arguing on what he should have done, self doubt was creeping in, his sense of right and wrong was compromised, his choices came down to the better of two wrongs, two rights rather, his and theirs………. Everything in hindsight. This is what happens when you let your heart rule your head. He wanted it all and lost it all; he wanted a good thing without any responsibilities. He didn’t know if to laugh at his stupidity, or be sad that he was no different from all other selfish suckers out there……. Fuck it!!  

“Empty prayers” was playing in the background, a good song, he could relate.

He turned and checked his phone again, half past one. He sat up and lit a cigarette. He wasn’t sure if he was sad or indifferent, they were more or less the same to him. He felt indifferent to life most of the time, ignorant of the smiles……..empty. He didn’t feel the presence of god, he didn’t feel the presence of a lot of things, people were becoming more and more boring, and their ignorance irked him. He loved his family very much; he owed most of who he was to them, both the good and the bad. They loved him too, he knew that much, he was just sad that they were the ones who understood him the least……….

Quarter to three, and it was her in his mind again, maybe a quick text would suffice……..he thought against it. They had a good thing, he knew she wasn’t coming back but nobody would blame him if every once in a while, he thought of the possibilities, the what if’s……..

His friends. He hadn’t talked to most of them in months. He talked to one or two every once in a while, plus his cuz but that was pretty much everyone. He doesn’t miss home that much sometimes, he grows fond of being alone more every day, scary…..

His mind, he felt it drifting, he was slowly losing it. He could feel his thoughts evolving, he was more and more uncaring of the consequences of his actions, he could here himself blubbering incoherencies, or as he calls them, different lines of thoughts. His paranoia was deeper now, everything looked like a conspiracy, the government, the church, the terrorists, the employer, the women around him…………..This shit gets him angry. It makes him even angrier that nobody else sees the pattern, they can’t see the bigger picture, they can’t see how religion is related to power, or the government in involvement in certain accidents, the government schemed terrorist hits to instill fear in the citizenry and make them demand retaliation……or it’s just his paranoia getting the better of him.

He had lost faith in humanity, the greed, lust, hate, all perversions of love had made humanity stink, the gods lived short of their billing, nothing seemed right in the world, he really wished he believed in something, anything……. Sometimes, it felt more like rebellion against God rather than disbelief, like a dare, if he’s really there he’d be provoked and do something. It’s kinda funny though when you think about it, tragic even when we stop living and dream of a rose garden somewhere in the horizon....even more tragic when it occupies your mind more often than it should.

 

Half past four on his time piece, it’s Monday already. He needed to catch a couple of winks if he was going to be in anyway constructive…… Monday!!! Fucking Mondays!!!..... why does he even turn up to work every morning? He doesn’t even like numbers that much, he doesn’t need the toys, he doesn’t need the pressure, he doesn’t need that much money, why the fuck??.............

Same regular rant every Sunday night, accompanied with the no more alcohol oath, the quitting smoking resolutions, the no more weed announcement, all of which last no more than 24 hours.……

Quarter to five, the cold chill creeping in, almost stinging. He remembered the deadlines, the explanations, the commotion, the beginning of the same cycle which had burnt him out……..SHIT!!!! IT’S MONDAY!!!! Then Napoleon Hill says, " Do not wait; the time will never be ‘just right’. Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along."