10.55 am – Time to wake up befuddled, in a sweat. No, my pillow is not alive. My alarm is not ringing. And for a change I am wide awake, ironically on a Sunday morning. I feel useless, a waste of my mother’s beautiful genes, if I remain in bed any longer. My mind drifts.. Wishful thinking. I sigh.
11.10 am – I find the dog, rather, he finds me. We rejoice in finding each other. My roommate makes me coffee. Bittersweet because she won’t be here for very much longer.
11.20 am – Time to weep over the newspaper. Again befuddling because I can’t tell the difference between truth and lies.
11.45 am – Television. Inane serials, delving into other people’s lives because we are so bored of our own.
1.00 pm – Email, Facebook, blog updates, some more news. The drunk friends are contemplating their hangovers and the happenings of the previous night very intently.
1.20 pm – iPod. Some sad love songs. The day begins to unravel.
2.00 pm – Lunch with self and then washing some dishes. The phone rings. My soapy hands ignore it.
3.00 pm – I return the call, listen to some more depressing (but very good) music and head to shower.
4.00 pm – New shades. Summer is here after all. I head for a much-needed workout of my body and distraction for my brain.
6.00 pm – Friends. I’ve forgotten I was ever sad. I make inane remarks and re-discover an annoying Hindi film song, I eat, drop the friends home and head back.
8.20 pm – The dog is asleep but says hi. The roommate is out and my parents are away. My heart feels like everything happy has been sucked out of it.
9.00 pm – After staring into the darkness, someone I am supposed to interview cancels. I break down. I hate work.
9.30 pm – A light-hearted chat with my oldest friend.
10.00 pm – More television.
10.40 pm – I sit down to write. Has all of this really, *really* been over a bloody boy??! When is it going to stop? I pray it is PMS. The boy is not worth it if he is that blind. And nobody can make him see. Bloody befuddling boy.
4 comments:
What a fantastic log of a day's events following a ditching. No he is not worth it but that doesn't help the hurt. If you analyse the situation do remember to put as No.1
that he does not appreciate you.
Who is this boy? I need to know so I can smack him and tell him to turn into an ass so you can get over him.
Also, drunk people need to analyse hangover ya, to avoid future mistakes! :P
oldegg and shruthi: thanks :) as for the boy, this is mostly fiction actually.
Like the format. It's like how Woody Allen started writing fiction in the form of letters. You should extend this form more, I think.
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