Saturday Night

It’s Saturday night. The wind blows violently outside. Weather’s been bipolar for the past few days, and I had been sick for the past 48 hours.

It’s Saturday night. I’m supposed to be at work right now. No, I wouldn’t want to be there too, but between getting sick and being at fever-free at work, I think I’ll choose the lesser evil. Okay, now I can’t really see the difference between them.

It’s Saturday night. My mind is racing with thoughts again. I can’t help it. I feel like I am simultaneously listening to about twenty radio stations and all the words from the djocks mouths are being crammed into my brain. And now, I officially have a headache.

It’s Saturday night. A cockroach is flying across the room. Should I chase it and kill it? Darn. I’m too weak for that. Flying roaches! Gross.

It’s Saturday night. Lambert’s singing Ring of Fire on my mp3. how appropriate. But it wasn’t any wild desire that’s making my temperature rise tonight.

It’s Saturday night. Suddenly I’m in tears. Sent a text message to my best friend. No reply, she must be asleep now. Gotta reach out to someone. Gotta reach. ****, still awake? Message sent.

It’s Saturday night. The minutes pass by very slowly. Just had an exchange of text messages with a friend. Suddenly, I feel so vulnerable. And weak. And possibly dehydrated.

It’s Saturday night. My thoughts are with you now. I shouldn’t be thinking of this, I know. But I can’t help it. I do want to be with you. But we can’t. We just can’t.

It’s Saturday night. I’ll be sleeping soon. I’ll be…