Friday, October 21, 2005


Sometimes Friday is like five o'clock, especially to those who are depressed. You wake up in the morning, just barely, and it takes twenty minutes or two hours to crawl out of bed and shuffle around, wondering why the world goes on, not sure if you're at all glad that it does go on. And on it goes. You think, ok, if I can just make it to five o'clock, to get off work or get to happy hour or dusk and night and sleep again....

Friday can be like that on a bigger scale: ok, I made it to the weekend. No one expects as much from me for a few days. I can disappear. I can sleep in. I can be by myself some more with less guilt than during all the alone times I spent during the week, M-F, 9-5.

The weekend is a lighter load, two days of more peace, more quiet, more time. Then comes Monday, and the cycle starts all over again, thinking there's always next Friday and some little saving grace in that.


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