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Sundays are tricky. They start like a lover who knows all the right things to say. The sunlight feels warmer, the chai is brewed more slowly, and for a few hours, I actually believe I’ve entered a world where deadlines don’t exist.
There’s this odd sweetness to Sunday mornings, like someone holding your hand and promising, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
But by afternoon, the tone shifts. It’s subtle at first, the kind of silence that creeps in after laughter fades. Lunch is barely over, and already there’s that low hum of anxiety in the background. The day that felt endless in the morning suddenly starts shrinking, slipping through my fingers like sand I can’t hold.
My plans of doing laundry, reading that half-finished book, maybe even going for a walk? Gone. Just like that friend who said, “I’ll always be around,” and then quietly muted your chats.
Also Read: Breakfast Babble: Why We Need A Sunday In The Middle Of The Week Too
By evening, Sunday is basically packing its bags without telling me. The light outside changes, softer but crueller, like the final conversation where you know it’s over but drag it out anyway. I sit there with coffee, scrolling aimlessly, trying to distract myself from the ache of Monday inching closer. Even though Netflix feels like a rebound, it fills the silence but doesn’t fix the emptiness.
Then comes the final blow, the Sunday Scaries. That last hour, when time feels heavy and I suddenly remember all the tasks I ignored. The grocery list. The email drafts. The laundry is still pretending to be a beanbag chair.
My heart sinks, not because of what I did, but because of what I didn’t. It’s the same ache you feel when someone leaves without proper closure, you replay conversations, think of things you could’ve done differently, and still end up with nothing but silence.
And yet, every week, I forgive Sunday. I romanticise its mornings, fall into its comfort, and conveniently forget its betrayals by Friday. That’s the thing about Sundays, they’re soft enough to lure you back, sharp enough to leave you aching.
If days were people, Sunday would be the charming one who texts “good morning” but disappears before dinner. A heartbreak on repeat, scheduled neatly into the calendar.
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under: sunday vibes, sunday scaries, sunday feels, sunday mood, weekend thoughts, sunday blues, sunday blog, sunday routine, sunday therapy, weekend vibes, sunday relatable, young adult life, sunday evening, monday motivation, self reflection, slice of life, sunday break, sunday storytelling, sunday anxiety
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