(5) Sunday Blues

The night falls

the preparation never happened.

The week is near.

Fear is real and the existential crises appear.

Since I could remember, I questioned my existence, both temporary and eternal.

I hated Sundays. The calm afternoon created turbulent thoughts.

Young boy, big thoughts, small world, big afterlife, bigger world, smaller appetite.

Depressed before I understood the meaning.

Scared before I understood why.

Frightened under whatever skies. Learning to believe in the unseen scared me away from reality.

It was not safe in reality but terrifying out of it. Limbo was horrific.

Laughter was for the jubilant uncaring and sinful.

Serious scorned faces for the repentant.

So much to repent for and every since I was younger I hated Sundays.