Friday

These days it's Friday that's the hardest.
Used to be another day.
Usually Monday. Sometimes Wednesday.
These days Fridays I just sit and ache and wonder what I'm doing here. Wonder.
Working in a self-depricating profession, spending more than I make (and not on drinks, that's for sure), dealing with battles that aren't mine or I don't want to deal with.
Been up since 5 this morning. Nothing better to do. Worked for eight hours and took a one hour driving test. Somehow managed to get my German license. Drove 40 minutes to the place, 40 back. Little real conversation at any point throughout the day. Little meaningfulness.
"You want to get drinks later?" She asks.
"Sure."
"Hope about next week?"
How about now. How about I drink til the bottle is empty and order six more.
Ate lunch alone today. The conversation wasn't that great. Me starring out a window, thinking about the people who tell me it'll get better or it'll get worse or the ones that told me so and the ones that say they think about the same things I do. I think about everyone who has pissed me off in the last couple of weeks and realize that it's a long list and that a lot of the people really should be put in their place. But I'm in no position to do that. And that just makes me angrier.
And what about all the ones that try and rationalize or turn it around to make me the villian?
I want some whiskey, I think. Gin would be good, too.
I come home. Want to be alone. Been working for the last 14 hours. Realize I got up too early. Close my eyes. Try and enjoy the Friday afternoon because that's what that time is for, closing your eyes. Then people start yelling, screaming, shouting, fighting.
I walk out of my room. Think somewhere else.
Around dusk I realize I'm depressed. For all the right reasons, of course. Mostly the people in the world, the people in my world.
Him and her, her and him, them, me, us and everyone is on my mind.
No use arguing, I think. It's Friday and I should rest, I think.
Wednesdays used to be hard. I was born on a Wednesday.
I'm listening to St. Germain's "Forget it" and the song seems appropriate for my life, I think. Then I make the decision to add it to the soundtrack of my life - a list of twelve songs I've decided to pick that describe me.
Then I forget what I'm talking about.
Who knew in the first place.
Forget about it.
Forget about her.
Forget about him.
Forget about them.
Forget about us.
Forget about most, if not everything.
It's Friday.
Like the song, just different, really.
Friday I'm alone