8 days a week

Is what I wanted today. But I know that in another world where there were actually 8 days a week, then it’d be an extra weekday and not a weekend.

But still, I wanted an extra day today. What should we call this feeling, since it is neither regret nor desire?

Neither warm or cold, but still painful.

What I am looking for is not 8 days but 25 hours. So that I could do exactly the same things I did this holiday, only better.

The holiday is half over and I have not fully rested and I won’t get to rest until I feel that it is enough. Still, I had my little moments of happiness.

As always it’s ridiculous to say I want to experience that happiness again, knowing that it came with work, pain and the usual payments of dues – in emotion and time and stress.

My little sister even replied once “I don’t think you are”, in reply to my “mian-hae”, and I was struck in that moment with a thought of that I was.

I have lost something intangible and gained something intangible, ephemeral. And we have done things that we have never done before and I tasted satisfaction.

A kind of stated satisfaction that I haven’t touched for a long time. I also don’t know when it became something difficult to reach.

Because satisfaction and relaxation are apart from one another but like a political horseshoe.

As a concerned citizen,

I wondered about that lie.

And how the pile of lies

laid waste to another’s dedications.

And between the jibes of politicians,

the comments of professors, lawyers, more politicians,

interesting and headache-inducing,

each time I hear Ms Low’s voice,

saying that she is “afraid,”

I am afraid of my heart that leaps up my throat,

and what it all means.


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