february 20, 2006:
Monday morning sings the blues; my soul can tolerate nothing else. I wear bright colors to ward off the charcoal ghost of who I was this weekend.
My face scrubbed of the telltale makeup, my nails scoured of all but the faintest traces of black. Black clothes tucked away, so as not to be confused with who I am this weekday.
The weekend has nothing to do with nine-to-five, and my workday fingers feel numb to their task. Could I live my whole life in the weekend? Would the pressure of nonchalance crush me?
The weekend is driving head-first into the coming storm with the top down: what am I inviting?
Well, right now, I'm inviting my first cup of coffee.
(the coffee at work tastes like swift death from above.)
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