Sunday, the first part.


Ignoring phone calls and breathing in smoke. Trying to connect to gospel – because today is Sunday, and sometimes that shit works, but today it doesn’t because my head’s not really in it. I want to write something. Want to put feelings on “paper” in hopes that it’ll be some kind of therapeutic.

I feel frustrated. Angry. Tired. Creative. Reflective over the last 24 hours. I have this bug that nips at me incessantly, saying something like, “there’s inspiration. Write something since you claim you want to so bad.” So, I head out for paper towels and on the way back up to the 7th floor, I’m confounded by “musings of introspective reflection” – what do I really feel about [insert the litany of shit I’ve thought about today]? And also It’s a blog, yes, but how much can I/should I really say?

With that, I’m off to get dressed and further contemplate this query. I’ll be back with something substantive to say. 6:25.



About moniquealicia

M.A.G. is a doctoral student at Howard University. She resides in the Washington, DC metro area, and is passionate about her love of family and friends, politics and conversation, and the exceptional meal. View all posts by moniquealicia

One response to “Sunday, the first part.

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