Life at 22

After a whole week of meals eaten on a whim, today felt pretty special. No shop to rush to, no impatient customers to serve, no inappropriate remarks to ignore. And a cup of coffee which tasted better than ever.

It was the sun I haven’t seen for days which dragged me out of the bed and tied my shoelaces. Before I even realised, I was running up the hill, imagining I was crossing Dutch bridges like I once used to do. I would have gone further and further if it hadn’t been for the crazy hunger that stroke out of the blue. An hour later, sweaty and hungry, I was back home. But staying in on a weather like this was out of the question.

The streets were crowded, but there was no one I had to meet, no one I really wanted to see. It was just me, having one of those marathon conversations with myself. Aimlessly walking around, I suddenly felt as if everything went mute.

Back home, I zoned out and dived into preparing the dinner I had in mind all week. Fancy cutlery, colored plates, all picture worthy. Except for my appetite, which in the end didn’t seem to photograph well.

There are still bills, letters and bits of paper on the table, all filled with lists and scribbled with numbers, days and names. The iron board is in the middle of the room and the shirt on the back of the chair, all ready for tomorrow’s shift. So when you draw the line, even if it was sunny or the coffee tasted better, it’s just another day.

*Life is a pretty good thing. It’s just that sometimes I feel the one I’m living is not mine.

~ by Andra on 15/09/2012.

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