A Day Ends

My name…no…I don’t know what my name is.

But I have a name; but it is merely a word randomly bestowed upon me, according to the whims and fancies of those who named me.

Can I choose to call myself by another name? Yes, of course. But is it not any different than a meaningless, purposeless naming? Only so chosen by my liking?

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Sarah opened her eyes. Good morning, greeted the sun. She smiled back. It was a nice day. It had rained very early in the morning. She knew that because a cold, wet breeze blew against her naked back.

She pulled up her very thin blanket, and closed her eyes. But she did not intend on going back to sleep. Rather, she laid there on her bed, enjoying the relaxed state that comes with being drowsy, that comes with being a person who has just woken up.

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Being…what is being? What are we? Do our experiences make us? Or does our mind do that? Is our self an expression of our mind?

Or is it the form that it takes after being molded by our experiences? Does our mind have any chance to resist the crafting of experience?

Do we have any choice at all…to control ourselves? Or do we live this way because this is what we are. And what we are is made by things that are not what we are. Made by things beyond our control.

What are we?

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Sarah got up from her bed. Quickly. She turned to look at the clock. Eight in the morning.

The wind was cold, very cold. Sarah shivered as she hurried over to her cupboard to find a shirt, and to put it on. A very handy protection for cold, indeed.

She slowly recollected last night. And slowly, a release came over. A distinct, euphoric sense of freedom. She had finished it, and finished it well.

She smiled at the mirror. Her reflection she took as herself and as someone else. She looked away. You do not smile at a person for too long.

“How are you doing today?” Sarah muttered. Apparently, to herself and someone else. “Fine,” she replied.

“10 missed calls!” she uttered in amazement as she turned on her handphone. Did her friends really think it was that good?

Apparently so.

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Indulgence. Pleasure. Why is it sinful? Why do some say that it is so? Is it because our bodies are bad? That our evil flesh does not deserve to be treated well? Is indulgence in pleasure bad and abstinence a virtue?

How can something that feels so good…be wrong?

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“Narcissism.” Sarah said to her sister, Jamie.

“Narcisissypism what the heck?” she replied.

“The love and sexual desire for your own body.”

“Nothing’s wrong with that, except for the sex part.”

Sarah kept silent.

“It’s good to love yourself.” continued Jamie.

“As for the ‘sexual desire’…” Sarah’s sister said, “Does masturbation count?”

“Nope.” Sarah clarified. “It runs much deeper than that.”

“Ah well.” Jamie said, and grabbed her bag. “Time is calling me.”

“You mean work.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you did well last night. See you!” Jamie gave Sarah a quick peck on her forehead.

“Thanks. Bye!” Sarah said. She didn’t know why she greeted back so joyously. Her feelings did not allow her to do such.

Sarah fiddled with the leftover lettuce from her sandwich. Beaten, she dumped the remains into the garbage and slowly and carefully purified the plate in which she had defiled.

Yes, washing should be a religion.

Satisfied, Sarah turned to doing her usual chores. But then she realized that she had no regular chores. Only those which she, by luck (or chance, or whatever force you wish to ascribe such happenings to), came to do regularly.

She peeked into the laundry basket, and realized that her clothes from last week had yet to be washed. No wonder she couldn’t find them.

Sarah put them into the washing machine, along with other clothes to accompany them. All this she did as though it was her responsibility. A kind of responsibility that fell upon her if nobody else did it.

But is such even a “responsibility”?

The first call came, as Sarah had expected. Loads of “love you”, “wonderful!” and “congratulations” came to be uttered. All with enthusiasm, whether feigned or genuine.

Sarah knew today wouldn’t be a good day (of course, she was generalizing) when she had to fall back onto her bed. Nothing to do, except lie in a state of idleness. Now Sarah knew how unused objects felt.

This was boredom. Sarah slipped her hands into her panties and fingered her dry clitoris. Spurts of pleasure came fleetingly. Sarah upped the tempo. Her fingers began to tire quickly, so she slowed down.

Another call.

“Hey!” Sarah said. Another friend, another well-wisher. Do get over with it as fast as possible.

It was a quick one, and Sarah was glad.

She took of her shirt. Threw it aside. Only in her panties now, she focused entirely on her sole act of self-gratification. It was lovely. She alternated hands as they began to tire quickly.

Sarah then realized she was still wearing a piece of useless clothing. It was dispensed with finesse and speed.

Her body writhed. So natural. She came. Wonderful. She moaned, and shuddered. Lovely.

She fell asleep.

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My God, my sole Hope. I love you. Thank you for making me as I am.. I adore you, and would delight to follow your every command.

Father, I submit myself to your will. Your immutable will, decreed from the beginning, from all eternity.

You are my strength. I will worship you with all my strength, with all my soul, with all my mind.

Guide me, O Lord.

Amen.

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Sarah closed her Bible.

She began to ponder why so many people, when they close their Bible, also close their mind to all other “religious” things.

For them, Sunday is church and church is Sunday. The rest of the days? Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.

Sunday is church; church is Sunday. Make sure you pray, and make sure your sins are forgiven. Don’t defile the holiness of Sunday with your sinful thoughts, your godless acts.

It was night. A day had gone by. And Sarah knew it was much better than she had expected it to be.


Satisfy yourself with someone else. Such is the hidden motive behind any relationship, platonic or sexual. Each uses one another for their own ends. Yes, they don’t even realize it.

But can there be sacrifice in love?

Oh yes, indeed, it is so obvious.


Sarah woke up.

“Oh darn.” She groaned. She had fallen asleep.

Sarah looked at the clock. Again, for the second time in the day. To regain her sense of chronology that had been lost the moment she slept.

2:34. She slipped back her panties. And her shirt. She went downstairs for some water. That was the only thing she thought of doing at the moment.

“Hey Hon.”

“Hi Dad. Didn’t know you were back so early.”

“Finished early. Only way back early.”

“Why’s your hair all frizzed up?”

“Oh…I slept.”

“Again? Or did you just wake up?”

“Heh. Again.”