Sewing

Early Sunday afternoon. It is drizzling. I discover that I am not much of a writer after all. Dozed off while reading. I turned to writing then. First in my head. Then, I think, why not this space. 

I have a plan on how to spend the weekend. I always plan. To get the things I want done. I planned for a swim yesterday; I did it. A toilet mat from IKEA; I bought it. Today, I have booked a ticket online for a local soccer league match. I know I have loans to return to library. And having no food, I have to leave the flat sooner than later for my lunch. 

Look, I am grateful for life having gotten me this far. But like some philosopher said, there is always a "dissatisfaction" within, the "what-ifs", an unseen gaping wound. Time takes its own winding path sewing it up.