I ran around chasing sunlight for a while yesterday. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for, but I think it had something to do with wanting to keep the day for a while.

My feet were the colour of soot; my hands red with the surge of blood and fervour.

I saw birds circling above me, in perfect shapes, making shadows of moving rings on the ground.

The shadows got longer and distorted and I knew I had to stop running at some point.

The evening came by, despite my best efforts to contain all the sunlight in my arms. The day did end.

In the grey evening light, I realized that disappointment usually soaks through the layers and finds you, even though you deny any deeper meaning.

The Monday caught me off guard.

It happens every week. I walk into office with my head hanging with dread. Then I check the work situation and I always come out feeling even more worried, despite my pessimism.

Everyone is sneezing or coughing or trying to control runny eyes. I think we got it from each other.

We also tried to blame it on someone, just to find some entertainment and vent some morning stress. Turns out people are very defensive and competitive on Monday mornings and someone managed to get their feathers ruffled. So we dropped that and went on to pursue our private stress busters –blogs, newspapers, matrimonial sites, you know the usual.

The dreaded Monday is gearing up to tear us down. It might seem exaggerated, but trust me it isn’t.

The Sunday has passed me by.

It's over and it didn't feel like a holiday. It felt trying. Now, the sun has set and the street lights have come on, with all the moths hovering around them. The deserted roads have a few people but they scurry around.

Tomorrow, the week will be upon us. The Monday will be as trying as today, only in a different manner. 

The breaks, both from reality and the writing, come with consequences. Two little blog-posts for the next two days, then.

There’s Chinese food bubbling inside me. It’s like I ate embers from a dying fire. The heat rises and falls periodically. Earlier today, when I woke up – I wish I didn’t have to. Everything seemed bleaker. Everything felt like it was covered with a dark, thick blanket. I don’t really recollect what I told myself to encourage myself to get out of bed, but I did.

Now, even though I am sitting at my work desk, looking atleast mildly intelligent, my brain is still swimming through dregs of grease from last night. Two long weeks are ahead of us and unfortunately there isn’t too much to look forward to.

Yes, it’s Monday morning. I don’t think I should be expected to be cheerful atop everything else.

You can never win with Sundays.

If you're home, by the time evening comes around, the words and pictures on your laptop screen all blur into one depressing tangle. Then, your parents mock you about having no social life. Then you watch the evening grow darker and all the thoughts about Mondays and the future that you've ignored all day come and dance around you.

If you step out, you have to battle the whole city to even get to some place. It's like hundreds of people and hundreds of cars collaborate to make as much noise as is possible. Then while you put up a brave front with the traffic, it begins to pour and before you know it, you're covered with dark rain water and muck. Somewhere along the evening, the folks call you and ask you to come back early and yell about how you're never home, just for good measure.

Once you do get home, you realise that the Sunday is over and the next Sunday seems really far away. Then you look forward to it anyway, even though this one was just about average.

There is a feeling of dread; or perhaps a watered down version of it. That's how I feel on most Sunday evenings.

It's raining and the dancing leaves outside make patterns against the window pane. There is a music playing in the other room and it is a very comforting, faraway sound. I am eating a green apple cut into very tiny pieces. I wish I could close my eyes and make this last for a long time to come.

Then soon enough, I realize that tomorrow is Monday and the feeling of dread bubbles inside of me. I think of the work, the crisp smell that I associate with air-conditioned offices and the long phone calls with people who have condescending tones.

Soon enough a countdown will begin for the weekend and all too soon that will be over too. And repeat.