Evidence of existence

Weekends always have a promise containd within them. A promise for an adrenalin rush, For something Great to happen. For a new ME to emerge.

Weekends always end with a disapointment. Plans change, parties are missed - and the ones I end up in tend to be lame. People don't show up. Or the mood is gone.

And then another week begins - and with it another fantasy about the coming weekend

Gosh I hate it. I always end up sleeping too much and doing too little. and too much of it is spent alone... 

The good news is that my mood is slightly better. The bad news is that my muse is gone....