Crazy.

I walked outside thinking I could take on Monday. Before the sun could say hello I was right back inside, underneath my cozy sheets.

I tried Tuesday and my alarm wouldnt stop snoozing.

Wednesday, I had three voicemails. I deleted them right away. My sister stopped by my apartment dropping off a casserole. She said she would have stayed but, ya know.

Wednesday night, I drank a little and called my friend Stevie. We talked about politics, and the price of gas. He is really intelligent and makes me feel inferior. But, I still have my views and Stevie is the closest thing I have to a friend. He always keeps me up to date on his latest essay. He’s applying to Harvard and Yale.

Thursday. I hate Thursdays. I actually make it to my 11:30 class. It’s the worst class of all time. Professional business writing with a Chinese speaking professor. The only reason I am here is to take the final. Literally I have not shown up but for two classes. The first, the last.

Thursday afternoon. I go see my shrink. I sit there while she probes into my life while I offer her little to no explanation of my recent behavior. I am what they call a resistant client. My mom. I promised my mom I would go. She said, it’s the least I could do. My mom’s real supportive, honest. Sometimes, I think I’ll get better just because of her.

Friday-Sunday. I write. Mostly about how much I hate America, Wall-mart, politics, jobs, money and college. Occasionally, I write a poem to show my mom I’ve made some progress. I’m not depressed. I’m just, just not living the “dream.” I talk to God on Sunday. Then I call Stevie. I ask him every Sunday what he thinks about God or religion. He tells me I need to smoke weed. He’s probably right.

I won a short story contest recently, and with the winnings I drove my car around aimlessly wasting precious gas to prove a point.

Sunday night. The brink. Mondays coming. I try very hard to psych myself up for Mondays. I can hear whispers from my own mouth “just buy into America.”

It’s Monday again. Hope is at my door. I just can’t seem to accept her.

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