It's Sunday Somewhere

This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song “What They Say” by Lily Fitts - https://open.spotify.com/track/7aWfmi3wJocJJAvyEkG60Y?si=6ac1621629f44c6f

The Past

It was Sunday somewhere in my version of hell. I had woken up to a WhatsApp notification. It was a picture of two people —friends of mine. One of them had finally arrived in the US. I had no idea he was even planning to travel. I smiled dryly as I remembered about a year ago when I spoke to him about how frustrating my plans for moving had been. He shared my sentiment. He had tried leaving back then, but it hadn’t worked out. Now, it appeared it had. I smiled again as I typed “Congrats, bro!!”

I was elated. A moment later, I was saddened.

**

I had taken a moment to ponder as I lay on my bed. I had a hand-fan to my left and my other hand clutched my phone. The scorching heat formed beads of sweat puddles on my forehead as the generator sound from my next-door neighbour’s apartment enveloped the air. Friends and acquaintances leaving had now become a usual occurrence. Two months before, another friend had left. I knew much more about his movement than I did the other one. At one point, I even encouraged him when he harboured concerns about his chances. I had told him to remain steadfast. 

“Guy, you don come this far, no worry yourself, everything will work out.” 

A week after he got his visa.

I was elated. A moment later, I was saddened. 

**

It was Sunday somewhere in my version of hell. There had been no power for two days. The heatwave was mind-numbing so I scrolled through Twitter (X) to see what miseries life had in store for others. I saw a quoted tweet. Someone asked people to brag about their achievements for the year. I saw one response from a mutual on the app. It read.

“I got my dream job. 

I got published in an awesome literary mag. 

I moved to a different country. 

I got engaged to the love of my life.” 

I blinked away the little tear. I remembered this person once tweeting about how they were tired of pain medications a year or so before.

I was elated. A moment later, I was saddened. 

**

The Present 

Nothing succinctly captures my state of mind lately like these moments. Moments of elation for the amazing lives others are living, followed by the dawning of sadness of the life that isn’t mine. I have lived long enough to have heard everything there is to hear about gratitude.  I may have preached the same ephemera sermon to my friends at their lowest. Sadly, I suck at taking my lessons. As each day in my version of hell, I am reminded that my life is hard, and everyone else’s pales in comparison.

Photo by Gabriel Testoni on Unsplash

Of course, if I were to be bogged down by the details I’d reckon that there are millions of people in deep poverty who would switch places with me in seconds. Yet, this reality never numbs the sadness of my truth —my fear. 

I fear that one day, I’ll close my eyes, open them and still be here: elated one moment, only to be saddened in the next. I fear I’d be that friend congratulating others on escaping their hell, whilst lighting a blunt in mine. I fear that with each moment, I begin to lose my sense of belief that there could be anything better than the comfort of my hell. 

**

Some months before, I came across a tweet by a lady asking urgently if anyone lived nearby and had a car so they could take her brother to the hospital. He had collapsed and wasn’t moving. It was a medical emergency and her tweet was quoted multiple times for maximum reach. I reposted it too and followed her account. A few hours later she posted a new tweet. Her brother was dead. He didn’t make it.

I imagined her brother. I imagined all his plans. I imagined that he had a significant other. I imagined he made promises too —subtle ones. Promises he hoped to keep in a future that wasn’t today; in a time that wasn’t the present. I imagined he loved his sister enough to spend time with her. I imagined he told her or his significant other that he loved them. I imagined at some point, he felt elated and then at some other point in his life, he felt saddened. 

**

The Future

It's been [***] years since I wrote this and I imagine life isn’t the same anymore. I probably still have days when I feel elated and some when I feel sad. I probably have found a way to escape my hell or embraced the embers of its warmth. I probably have a few memories worth revisiting that help me make sense of the nightmares. I probably have left friends behind too —some for good reasons, others because life happens. In some distant future, I’d probably get to read this and remember that life is just a culmination of moments of elation and sadness. 

**

Timeless Void

It is Sunday somewhere in my version of hell, in some timeless void. I find comfort in knowing this could be my heaven too. 

Cheers!