Ahh yes. Good ol Monday, we meet again. What is better than a regular old Monday? A rain-soaked Monday.
When the rain hangs on the window panes like a blanket, I am forced inside. It’s these sopping wet, sunless Monday’s that I find myself exploring the dark alleys of my brain. Wandering around, picking up the pieces of crumpled up notebook paper to see what discarded thoughts I tossed aside. These alleys, they are littered with abandoned thoughts, forgotten dreams, and blotted out big plans. Piles collecting on side streets, swept up and brushed aside by the 9-5 traffic that congests the main roads.
On every Monday like this that I explore these scrapped ideas, I come across the same one. I carefully unravel the wrinkled ball, the paper soft because it has been handled so many times, and I read the words I’ve read 100 times before:
But without fail, 9-5 traffic picks up and sweeps it away like a feather in the wind. Swept up in the air to carefully fall into another dark corner, into another dark alley of my mind. Re-crumpled and thrown to a side for me to find on another Monday like this. I worry that if this keeps happening the next time I pick it up, the words will be to worn to read.