07 April 2011

Sometimes Grey is What it Is

The song is over and I snap out of my foggy thoughts. I see my hands sleeping on my computer keyboard, each finger sitting on a different key, just like my brother had taught me. Stretching my back I notice how dark it has become. Once the sun starts sinking it gets darker with every minute, there's no turning back, not until tomorrow. The screen shows my translation and I think about how sick and tired of it I am. Fuck it, I think, and feel like pressing ctrl and a, then del. One two three. Just like that. One less worry.

I need a coffee, I think, and start walking down the stairs, then into the kitchen. Suddenly I feel cold, and wonder why I'm wearing shorts. I should change, I think. Outside, a dog is barking, maybe at the sunset. It reminds me of the laundry I had earlier hung up to dry outside. Now that the sun is down, it won't get any dryer than it is now. I take my key and open the door to the back porch. The laundry is gone, and so is the hanger.  But it smells like somebody far away is having a barbeque. 

Strange, I think, and go back inside. I assume that someone has already put it in the living room, but I don't check. Can't bother. Back upstairs I realize that my hands are inside the pockets of my hooded zipper, which means that I'm not holding a mug, which means that I forgot about the coffee, which means that I wasn't really wanting coffee in the first place, which means that I went downstairs for nothing. I'm standing in the door to my room. Looking at the mess I get a bit upset. 

Why is there no order? Why is there no time? Why is everything messed up? And why am I so pissed off? I'm not hungry at all but I pick up the bag of cashew nuts anyway. It's pure fat in a shell made of calories. I grab half a handful, and start chewing on them. One at a time. Depressing. There's nothing good, not today, nothing to be happy about. Everything's grey. The sky is grey, the buildings are grey, the people are grey. Sometimes that's just it. Sometimes it is. Sometimes. That's how it is. 

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