The truth about Sunday

You’re either one who gets completely annoyed by all the slow jams that are on the radio on a sunday evening or you actually are very passionate about it. In short, you’re either a lover or a bitter one. For the inbetweeners, I guess this isn’t for you.
There’s always that one song that tears you apart and even though your heart can’t take it, you torture yourself and resound every word and feel like utter shit yet some kind of feeling of hope forms in you, a hope that you hope will leave your body, and enter a spiritual realm; turn into dust and travel way around to other side. The side where he or she is listening to the exact same song and thinking of you too. Side note: this aint the movies though. But anyway, after a long week of work-sucks and life-sucks and everything-prettymuch-sucks, Sunday you get the chance to slow all the way down. That radio that you sometimes hate, is your refuge now. All through the week you were so busy trying to get your mind off of everything illogical and stay focused on making your ends meet, when its Sunday you almost forget that you’re only human and your brain needs to feel like Coldplay… Perfect.
Slow jams make it better, somehow. Despite its detrimental effect on what’s ever left of your heart. Has the world ever spun so slow you can almost die in the moment? I know what that feels like now. I have the power to re-live so many moments in my head and spill that hope that will make me hold on.
I think ultimately that’s what we all live for. A chance; chances. Sunday evening has the audacity to provide such a slow spin for us. At least for a little while. A moment.

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