Why are Sundays so difficult, so hard, so tiring?
I wake up and go to church.
I work with younguns, play and talk and sing and smile
Then I go to big church
And I talk and sing and listen and learn
Then I get lunch
And eat and talk and sit and smile
Then I go on the Internet or nap
And then around 3 or 4, it hits- The Sunday Doldrums
It snowballs, getting worse and worse as the night continues
I try to escape
First I run to my email, checking for signs of life
Then I make Facebook my refuge, and spend a few hours hiding out
Youtube and random Google and Wikipedia searches keep me distracted for a while
But then it hits with such a force I feel like I’ve been shattered by a brick with a note
The note: You suck
So I reminisce and rest and want to return to the past
Yearbooks, photos, old books and notes and journals
All jam packed of things that keep my mind off that sour note in the symphony
It drags on and on and on and yet I know that it will be over soon
Which makes me feel even more lowly and bad. Worse. Whatever.
The night comes and you’d think I’d go to sleep, end it all, right?
But I continue in this terrible fight, not fighting but crouching over in fear
Eating chips and candy and other snack foods as I grasp the carpet in disgust
And in a few more hours
I realize I can just go to bed and start over