It’s Friday night. Or Saturday. Whatever you want to call it, still means you’ll be tired in the morning.
I don’t have any fancy graphics for this post. Honestly, it probably won’t be funny at all. I just feel like a post should be made. I’ll most likely post a video tomorrow of another terrible cover of a song that I think is deep, but in reality it’s acoustic angsty bullshit. But hey, if it makes me happy, that’s what’s important? Or at least that’s what I believe and gives me comfort.
Today at work we had margaritas. So that was nice.
And I was in a good mood all day. You go to work, a little bit later than usual, clock in. There’s a feeling in the air of relief, and a (somehow) relaxed motivation for finishing up your work and getting out for the weekend. The same feeling your last school period of Senior year in October, before a crisp, cool autumn weekend beckons you.
And you talk with your friends, and you they tell you all of their big and grand plans of the weekend, of going camping, and going kayaking at the campgrounds, a little high, and having a good time. And things just seem alright for once in life.
The bell rings, and you make your way to the school parking lot to your eleven year old car that your parents help you buy. Someone backed into it at the beginning of the school year, but hell, it’s just a car you remind yourself as you get it, and wait for your turn to finally leave the burden of responsibility in the cracks of the pavement in the parking lot.
You get home, and open up a window, and a cool breeze comes in, and you feel fantastic. College applications are a few weeks away. You took the SAT and ACT two weeks ago. Everything is falling into place.
That’s what today felt like.
As the day dwindled down to an end, you log off, and tell your boss and the remaining few co-workers still there that you’ll see them on Monday. You go downstairs, and step outside, expecting that cool, crisp breeze, since this day was just a good day.
But that’s not the case. There’s no breeze. The sun is as oppressively blinding as it was offensively hot. You walk across the parking lot to that special parking spot you have, because the highlight of this week at work WAS finding that perfect parking spot, where your car is cool and in the shade at the end of the day.
And everything starts to come back.
You start thinking about that Friday in October, in, what year? 2010? Jesus. That was nine years ago. You opened the window, and as the cool breeze comes in, with not a worry in the world, you noticed something doesn’t seem right. You haven’t turned on the light in your dark-blue room in your parents house. It’s usually the perfect brightness, but for some reason, today, it just seems a little to dark. You turn on the light, and for some reason, the overhead light seems a little to harsh. You turn the light back off and lay in bed. You thought about making some plans, but they didn’t come through. A moment of peace and quiet still seems nice after all of this.
You lay and think about everything a seventeen years old thinks about. How you’re going to be friends with all of your high school buddies forever, and will stay in contact and visit each other at each respective university.
Then you start to realize that a lot of your friends have plans this weekend. You won’t be able to see them too much, even though you have a car and no responsibilities for the next sixty hours. That’s alright. You’ll be friends forever.
The air conditioning unit turns on, a foot and a half from your window. It seems louder than usual, and interrupts the breeze that waltzed in, now replace by warm, sticky air from the conditioning unit.
And you realize that you don’t really want to do anything. Well, that’s not correct. You want to play videogames, guitar, go for a walk, a drive, grab an order of fries down the street as a monument of your current freedom. You want to do all of this, but you don’t. You can’t bring yourself to get out of your bed that hasn’t been made in days, and nothing seems worth (or interesting) enough to actually do it.
And your room seems to get just a little bit dimmer.
You turn the engine over on your relatively cool car, and sit for a moment. You pull out your phone just to have something to do for a minute. Something mindless, just to forget that feeling you had four hundred and forty two weekends ago. Things have come and gone. You’ve lived, and you’ve loved, and you felt pain. But things are different now. You have a plan tonight to break up the monotony of schoolwork.
You finally put your in gear, and drive out of the parking lot, taking the back way out to avoid even driving next to someone from work because, let’s be honest, you’re just that damn awkward. You head over to your friends house, and when you get there, the second you get there, you remember waking up two hours later on your bed, the window still open, no sounds outside but that of nature. The units are quiet, your room is just slightly chilly, and you sit up to at least turn on a desk lamp.
The lamp throws a shadow against the wall from the lampshade, and you know what? It’s not the lighting your used too, but to be honest, it’s not to dim, or to bright. You lay back down and things seem right. You hang out with your friend, and you catch up, and talk about life, and show each other tv shows, and it’s not quite perfect, but with the day you had and seeing your friend, it’s the most perfect day you’ve had in awhile.
You see the sun set through their window, remembering that you room eight and a half years ago had a window facing east, and never got to watch the sunset from your bed, just a gradual darkness as light seemed to creep away.
As you leave their house and say goodbye, you appreciate the time that you spent together. It reminded you of what it felt to be naturally human again.
When you get home, you have an urge to write a blog post. You have no direction, except that it will be about depression, and that it’s always with you, in the good times, and especially the bad times.
But even if you’re hanging out with a good friend over a few beers, you know things are going to be okay. And you get home, and it’s Sunday night, and school is tomorrow, and you’ve barely left your room, except to take the dog out as your parents went away for the weekend, and you just think, “Well, I’ll always have next weekend. Or the weekend after that.”
Coming home after hanging out with someone or doing something is always bittersweet. You appreciate the time you had, but you’re home now. That time has come to an end. You’re tired, but still want to stay up, even just for five minutes, so you can try to think things through about everything. But there’ll always be next weekend. Or the weekend after that.
You can’t sit there and think about the past, or the future. It doesn’t seem worth it. And you don’t want to think about it anyways, because Sunday is right around the corner.
And school starts at 7am.